


only fools rush in

by gravitycentered



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rimming, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night feels like it moves quickly, melting away as they all get steadily drunker; Zayn watches the boys eat and laugh and shove each other around and feels suddenly very glad to be with them, incredibly lucky to have all of them to himself. </p>
<p><i>Especially you,</i> Zayn thinks, looking over at Louis. The bar lights are dim, as usual, but there’s a dull little ceiling lamp above their table and it illuminates Louis just enough as he smiles back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	only fools rush in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [postscript](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postscript/gifts).



> so... this became much longer than anticipated!!! despite all the shit that went down within the fandom while it was being written, there is honestly not a drop of angst to be found in this fic. i hope it can soothe some souls :) 
> 
> my prompt for this fic was "friends with benefits to lovers" and i tried to stick to a lot of the general likes mentioned, so i hope i've done it justice!! 
> 
> thank you VERY MUCH to N and A for the beta reads, as well as some early feedback from R, N2 and M ♥

Halfway through his studio art module, Zayn’s not made a single pencil mark on the draft he’s been working on for the last several weeks. The semester is only really starting to gather momentum, but Thursdays are impossible to remain motivated through, being only a few hours away from the start of his weekend and usually a night or two out with the boys from the house. He leaves his phone on through studio time as the professor doesn’t pay them any mind while they work, and he watches his screen light up at 12:17 with a text from Louis. 

_You busy tonight ?_ it reads. 

Grateful for a reason to ignore his work, Zayn replies right away, _dunno, Niall wanted to go to the blind tyger_.

_Bloody Niall_ , Louis sends back. Before Zayn can reply, he sees that Louis’ typing and waits for his second message. _Did you tell him yes already ?_

_No he just said it when I left this morning. U want to go somewhere else?_

Zayn checks the time again before locking his phone, only two minutes gone at 12:19. He knows Louis’ got things til later in the afternoon, probably in his film module now, pecking out replies with his screen dimmed as dark as it’ll go. It takes him a while to get his next two messages typed: _Wanted to stay in actually_ followed by _Do some revising._

That makes Zayn smirk. He glances at the students around him as if they can see his screen - or as if it’d matter if they could, since that’s exactly why they chose the word “revising” - and sends back, _Need my help?_

_Yeah_ , is all Louis says. 

Zayn shifts as he types, already anxious for the end of the day. _I’ll be home in a few hours._

-

Harry’s the last one to get back to the house, jogging up the walk at half past six. It’s late enough in the fall that it’s already pitch black outside, and Niall’s been restlessly waiting for him to return, already dressed to go out. 

“Alright,” Niall says, jangling his keys around in one hand. “Last call, who’s comin’?” 

“Me!” Liam yells from the hall. 

“Lads?” Niall asks, popping his head into the common room. 

“Nah, think m’gonna stay in,” Zayn says. 

Louis glances at Zayn, both of them sprawled on the sofa. “I’ve gotta revise for Media Policy.” 

“It’s fuckin’ Thursday,” Niall says, hovering in the doorway looking incredulous. 

Keeping a straight face, Louis says, “I’ve got flashcards made, already, Niall.” 

Liam squeezes past Niall and sits on the table in front of Zayn and Louis, bending down to tie up his shoe laces. “You know none of us believe you when you say you’re revising, Louis.” 

“I’ll have you know I’ve got excellent marks this term thanks to my study skills,” Louis says. 

“I’ll go,” Harry says, draping an arm across Niall’s shoulders. He looks sweaty, like he ran all the way from the main campus instead of catching the bus. 

“Fix your hair first,” Louis says. 

“It is a bit… wilted,” Zayn agrees. 

Harry frowns and reaches up to tug on the drooping mess of a bun he tied in place this morning, and works on redoing it. 

“Come on, I’ll buy you a round if you come along and tell us what you’re up to when you pretend to be revising,” Niall says. 

“If I did that, Niall, I'd have to kill you,” Louis says, shrugging. Zayn nods sadly, trying to convey in one gesture that it’s true but he doesn’t make the rules. 

“Please don’t put anything in my shoes again,” Liam says.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, mate,” Louis says, very innocently. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Liam warns, giving Louis a thwack upside the head as he walks past and laughing at his indignant yell. 

“Suit yourselves,” Niall says, heading towards the front door. “We’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Get drunk for me, lads!” Louis calls to them, and Zayn listens for the final click of the door’s lock and their muffled laughter that tells him they’re all outside. Louis’ already started moving himself closer, spreading his legs just wide enough to bump his knee against Zayn’s. 

“We’re gonna have to come up with a new code,” Zayn says, curling his fingers around Louis’ kneecap. 

“It was incredibly convincing,” Louis insists. With no one else in the house he’s buzzing now, impatient. “I was a bit worried Harry wasn’t gonna go, to be honest.” 

“Nah, I knew he’d be up for it. Oughta go to our room in case they come back for something, though.” 

“Brilliant idea,” Louis agrees. “Best to study in a familiar place, they always say.” 

“Idiot,” Zayn smiles, climbing off the sunken-in sofa to head for their bedroom. 

Theirs is the only shared room in the house, over double the size of all the others. They both immediately wanted it, tired of the tiny rooms in their hometowns and the minuscule single dorms in the first year of uni. Sharing is a fair price to pay for so much space. Louis’ bed is snug against one wall while Zayn’s is directly parallel against the other, both desks and dressers lining the walls as well to leave the center of the room empty and wide open. 

Zayn turns on the overhead light and locks the door behind Louis when he steps inside, reaching out to grab his wrist and keep him close. “What’s gotten you so _studious_ today, then?” 

“Dunno, actually,” Louis admits. He steps in closer until they’re in each other’s space, close enough that Zayn can wrap an arm around his waist. “Thinking about driving home tomorrow for a visit, we all know I can’t get much done over there.” 

“Ah, gotta get it all out of your system now, huh?” Zayn asks, feeling Louis’ hands come to rest on his hips, squeezing lightly. 

“At least until Monday,” Louis says. He leans in first and Zayn meets him halfway, both of them tilting their heads just enough to let their mouths slot together almost perfectly on the first try. The rasp of their stubble makes Zayn shiver, something he never thought he’d get used to but finds comfort in now. He feels Louis melt against him a little, the give in his spine when Zayn flattens a hand against his lower back. The kiss itself is short, a few gentle pecks tacked onto the end. 

“Your bed or mine?” Zayn murmurs, mostly into Louis’ lips. 

“Yours is a bit cleaner,” Louis replies. “Turn the bloody light off, though, bro. S’too bright.” 

“Nope,” Zayn says. He starts walking them toward his side of the room, steadying Louis since he’s moving backwards. “Want to see you.” 

Louis simply sighs like he’s making a great sacrifice, but Zayn can taste the difference, the shudder resting underneath. They both climb into Zayn’s bed and tug his blanket around themselves, over their shoulders in the chilly autumn evening, and tangle their limbs together again, laughing as they do. Zayn shivers when the cold tip of Louis’ nose nuzzles his cheek, kissing it to let Louis’ skin leech some warmth from his own lips. 

There’s not a _favorite part_ of this that Zayn has, not really, but the kissing is what he thinks about most often. They’ve only gotten off together properly a handful of times, but he’s lost count of how many nights they’ve stayed up learning each others’ mouths, catching themselves watching the other’s lips at the breakfast table the next morning. Louis’ kisses are the precise opposite of what Zayn would’ve ever expected from him; they’re _slow_ , exploratory and lazy, exceedingly thorough. Zayn lets him lead as often as he likes, allowing himself to be guided by Louis’ hands on his jaw or the gentle insistence of his tongue. 

“Been thinkin’ about this since you texted earlier,” Zayn tells him, eyes still open but close enough to Louis’ face that he can hardly make anything out. 

Louis laughs softly, counters with, “Been thinkin’ about it longer than that, myself.” He’s already sneaking his hands underneath Zayn’s top, rubbing his back slow and soothing. 

“Yeah? How long?” 

“Since last night,” Louis mumbles. 

Zayn hums, “Why last night?” 

Louis huffs out another laugh against Zayn’s mouth and says, a little embarrassed, “Might’ve been watching you have a wank.” 

Despite feeling himself go hot, Zayn gives Louis’ bum a playful swat. “Dirty boy.” 

“I thought about going over to help but it seemed a bit _forward_ of me,” Louis says. 

“You’re always welcome to join,” Zayn tells him. 

“I’ll remember that,” Louis says, voice lower now, his palm pressed flat to the bare skin between Zayn’s shoulderblades. Zayn leans in first this time, catching Louis’ lips only slightly off-center and lingering there for a moment before they start to move together, the first proper snog of the night. Through the unexpectedly quick push of Louis’ tongue into his mouth and the way their knees knock together as Louis squirms closer, Zayn can tell he’s a little more desperate than usual, a little more needy. He sucks on Louis’ tongue the way he likes, encouraging him, and feels Louis’ answering hum against his own chest. 

“How much time d’you think we’ve got?” Louis mumbles into Zayn’s mouth, coaxing Zayn’s leg forward until he pushes his thigh in between Louis’. 

Zayn rucks up the hem of Louis’ top, stroking the warm skin of his lower back. He nuzzles up against Louis’ cheek, stubble catching, and kisses his chin. “Why?” he asks, pausing to place a trail of kisses against Louis’ rough jaw until he reaches his ear. “Don’t want ‘em coming back yet? Don’t want anyone to hear you once I’ve got you whining for it?” 

It’s the quickest way that Zayn’s found to gauge his mindset. He’s not afraid of Louis laughing at him; Louis has snickered into Zayn’s neck even with a hand on his cock, has interrupted what should’ve been a very effective line of dirty talk with a loud guffaw because he couldn’t take Zayn seriously. Tonight, though, Zayn feels Louis’ fingertips press harder into his back, legs squeezing Zayn’s tight in between his own, and he knows he’s taking it seriously. He doesn’t say anything back, but he doesn’t need to. 

“You’re hard up for it today, aren’t you, babe?” Zayn whispers, gently kissing the lobe of Louis’ ear just as he starts to nod. “Not seen you this ready for me so quick before.” 

Louis turns his head, seeking out Zayn’s mouth. It’s always better when Louis’ in a mood like this; it’s fun when he’s feeling silly, but they both come harder when he turns himself over to it, lets Zayn rile him up with words. There’s heat behind his kiss now, more direction, and he slides his hand down to pull insistently at Zayn’s hip until he takes the lead, rolling them so that Louis’ flat on his back. Zayn settles on top of him, keeping their legs slotted together so that they’ve each got a thigh to rub against when he grinds his hips down. 

“Was thinkin’ about you last night,” Zayn murmurs, dragging their lips together slowly. He slides both hands through Louis’ hair, forearms braced on the mattress on either side of his head, and hums when he feels Louis push up against his thigh. 

“What about me?” Louis breathes, running his hands up Zayn’s sides. His fingers are warm now, and Zayn’s already beginning to feel his skin prickle with sweat from the blankets still on them. 

Zayn thinks, choosing the words before he speaks into Louis’ mouth, “About getting my cock between these pretty lips of yours again.” Like he was hoping, it makes Louis suck in a breath, chest expanding underneath Zayn’s body; Zayn cradles his head and barely dips his tongue inside Louis’ mouth, teasing him. 

They’ve only gotten that far once, the last time they did this. Zayn’d already talked Louis off, mindlessly babbling about how good his mouth felt, how good he’d be with it while sucking him off, too. After he’d calmed down, Louis had pushed Zayn to his back and ducked down to close his lips around the head of his cock. He didn’t make it further than that; Zayn was already close enough that the shock of it nearly kicked him into his orgasm, and Louis pulled back in time to just get a smear of come along his bottom lip, the rest of it landing on Zayn’s belly. 

“Thought about you taking it deeper,” he says, kissing Louis between sentences to give himself a chance to craft them. “Lettin’ me push in, fuck your mouth a bit.” 

Louis responds with something like a moan, grinding up roughly against Zayn’s thigh and kissing him just as hard. He pulls at the hem of Zayn’s shirt, shoving it up until it’s trapped under his arms and Zayn has to leave Louis’ mouth to sit up and peel it off, letting the blanket slide down until it’s barely covering their legs. Zayn takes a minute to appreciate the view while he’s upright, looking down at Louis’ red face and disheveled hair. 

“I want to,” Louis admits quietly, visibly embarrassed, forcing himself to keep eye contact. 

Zayn leans back down and rolls his hips forward against Louis’, kissing the side of his neck. “Want to what?” 

“Zayn,” Louis mumbles, just a quick ticklish vibration against Zayn’s lips. 

“Want to what, love?” Zayn repeats, “Want to suck my cock?” 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. It’s barely a sound. 

After gently digging his teeth into the skin just above Louis’ pulse, Zayn goes on, “Want to let me fuck your mouth, was that it?” 

Zayn feels Louis swallow, the quick tension in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispers again, twisting his legs around Zayn’s and rocking himself rhythmically up against Zayn’s thigh now. 

“Good,” Zayn murmurs. He settles himself on top of Louis so that his mouth reaches his ear again and says, “Gonna let me come in you this time? Swallow it all?” 

The sharp edges of Louis’ nails dig into his back, making Zayn gasp; Louis drags them down, leaving several gently burning lines of pain behind, and moans quietly again, “ _Yeah_.” He keeps agreeing, too caught up to add his own words. 

Just to see if he’ll respond, Zayn says, “Gonna be good for me, yeah? How d’you want me to finish you off after?” 

“I don’t care,” Louis says right away, reaching up to cup Zayn’s jaw and turn his head for a kiss. Zayn lets him and mirrors the touch on Louis’ face, dragging his palm against the prickly hair at his jawline while their mouths move together, the slick kisses and their quick breathing so loud in the quiet house. 

“Bet you do,” Zayn breathes, sinking his teeth into Louis’ bottom lip, testing its give until Louis makes a soft sound. He pauses then, slightly anxious he might push farther than Louis wants to take it, but he still mumbles, “Would be a waste not to put that arse of yours to use, wouldn’t it?” 

“Zayn,” Louis says again, more pleading this time. He squirms underneath Zayn’s body, moving his hands to grip Zayn’s waist. 

“D’you like that?” Zayn asks; he changes his tone, just enough that Louis knows it’s a real question and not empty talk meant to rile him up, but he still doesn’t look fit to reply. His cheeks are a bright, embarrassed red and Zayn presses his mouth to the hot skin. “Looks like you like it.” 

Louis just whines, shoving his hands between their bodies to get his jeans undone. Zayn lifts enough to give him room, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of Louis’ head, looking down to watch as Louis pulls his cock out of the gap in his briefs. The rough squeeze Louis gives himself brings a bead of precome to his tip, and Zayn has half a mind to lean down and lick it away, feeling his own cock jerk. 

“I’ll— I wanna suck you,” Louis says, panting, strands of hair beginning to stick to his forehead. Zayn pushes them away and leans down to kiss him, feeling the press of Louis’ cock against bare stomach. Whispering into Zayn’s mouth, Louis continues, “Properly, I want to. Wanna taste it.” 

“Fuck,” Zayn shivers, dropping his head down to Louis’ shoulder and sucking in a deep breath before pushing himself up onto his knees. “Stay here, I think, let me—” he cuts himself off, crawling up until he’s kneeling at Louis’ shoulders, looking down at him. “This alright?” 

Louis nods; without Zayn’s weight on him, he pushes his jeans and pants down his thighs, not bothering to kick them all the way off before he’s looking back at Zayn’s body, leaning in to nip at his knuckles as Zayn unzips his own jeans. A bit playful, Zayn gives Louis’ cheek a gentle slap for the bite, but Louis just turns his face into it and kisses Zayn’s fingers, pressing in closer to nuzzle up against Zayn’s cock through his pants. 

“Jesus, Louis,” Zayn murmurs down at him. He does as Louis did, shoving his jeans and pants down just far enough to let his cock out, while Louis turns onto his side, propped up by pillows underneath his head. 

“Not too deep,” Louis mumbles, parting his lips around the tip of Zayn’s cock and closing his eyes, one of his hands gripping the loose fabric of Zayn’s jeans, the other curled around himself, squeezing. Zayn means to reply, opening his mouth to let the words come out, but all he manages is a soft groan; he cups the back of Louis’ head and watches him, keeping still for now. 

Really, Louis has no idea what he’s doing and that somehow makes it better. The experimental pressure of Louis learning how hard to suck on him is hot in its own way, letting him know that he’s the first one to get here. It invokes an unexpected sense of possessiveness, this feeling of Louis trying to make room for both his own tongue and Zayn’s cock in his mouth. 

“Open wider, babe,” Zayn says, stroking his fingertips down the side of Louis’s cheek and watching for the moment his jaw goes slack. He eases forward then, minutely, until he feels his cock slide against the slope of Louis’ soft palate, not nearly far enough to gag him, and draws back out. Louis looks up at him then, cheeks hollowed instinctively to keep Zayn in his mouth, and Zayn holds his gaze when he nudges his cock in deeper again until Louis’ eyes flutter closed. 

Zayn sets a slow pace and finds his hands keeping Louis’ head just where he wants it, one gently gripping his chin while the other tangles its way into his hair. He watches Louis try to stroke himself, cock still stiff and pink in his fist, too distracted to do it properly. There’s a tiny, circular wet patch that’s growing on Zayn’s sheets where Louis’ cock keeps brushing the bed, hips canting toward the mattress as if he wants to rub against it. That thought of Louis rubbing himself off on the bed while Zayn gently fucks into his mouth makes Zayn’s cock jerk against the cage of Louis’ teeth; he feels Louis’ hum and exhales all the breath that’s built up in his lungs at once when Louis pulls off for a moment, licking at his lips. 

“You’re so hard.” Louis sighs and his breath on the wet skin of Zayn’s cock sends a shudder through him. 

“Look so fuckin’ good like that,” Zayn tells him, unable to stop himself from nudging his hips forward into Louis’ space, gasping when he opens back up to let Zayn slip inside. Louis tips himself over until he’s on his stomach, bringing both hands up to hold onto Zayn’s thighs, blinking up at him again. 

This position lets Zayn see Louis sucking his cock deeper into his mouth and the muscles in his back and arse contracting when he rocks against the bed, and he knows he can’t hold out much longer. It becomes exponentially harder to pace himself like he had been, caught up in the slick suction of Louis’ mouth; he pushes in too deep once and feels Louis swallow frantically, but he doesn’t choke. Both of Louis’ hands move to grip tight onto the waistband of Zayn’s jeans, tugging at them every time he rubs against the mattress. Zayn knows there’ll be a streak of wetness on his sheets when Louis moves, and that image sends a rush of precome leaking out of him. 

Panting, Zayn says, “Gonna make me come, babe.” Louis whines from the back of his throat and pushes at Zayn’s hips until he stops moving, only keeping the tip of Zayn’s cock inside his mouth. Zayn stares down at him, holding Louis’ head in place with one hand and reaching down to stroke himself with the other, essentially wanking off into Louis’ mouth. It feels dirty, especially when Louis looks up and catches his gaze again, opening his mouth so Zayn can see how his cockhead rubs against Louis’ tongue. 

Biting back a groan, Zayn asks, “In you, yeah? Can I come in your mouth?” 

Louis nods, closing his lips back around Zayn’s cock, and the permission is all that Zayn needs. He fights to keep his eyes open as he starts to come, watching Louis; Zayn feels his appraising hum and sees him swallow without hesitation, throat working while Zayn spills more into his mouth. The moan that he lets out surprises him, and Louis echoes it with one of his own, always proud of himself when he manages to get Zayn loud. Greedily, Zayn wants more - as soon as he knows he’s stopped coming, he pushes himself deeper into Louis’ mouth again, surprising a whimper out of him. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Zayn breathes, brushing Louis’ hair away from his face to watch him some more. He stares at the slide of his cock past Louis’ lips, the way everything’s shining and slick when he pulls back. Louis lets out a little hum in response, tipping his head to the side like he’s tired of holding it up, so Zayn pulls out completely to let him drop his head down. 

“Oh my god,” Louis groans, burying himself face-first in the pillow. He grinds hard against the mattress, every muscle in his back coiled and tense. 

“So good,” Zayn repeats breathlessly, stretching out next to Louis and pushing his jeans the rest of the way off, kicking them onto the floor. Louis stays on his belly, hips working against the bed, so Zayn kisses his shoulder. “So hot like this, too, baby,” he mumbles. 

The only response he gets is Louis pushing the pillow out of the way, pressing his forehead against the sheet instead. Zayn rubs down his back, stopping just before the swell of his arse, and says, “Got you so worked up you’re gonna come without a hand on you?” 

“I—” Louis starts, apparently losing his train of thought before he can get any further. 

Mischievously, Zayn kisses between his shoulderblades and down a few knobs of his spine. “Could let me help you.” 

“Zayn,” Louis gasps, slightly panicked; his hips move a little quicker, body still tense under Zayn’s mouth. 

Zayn drops a few more kisses down the line of Louis’ spine, “Think I’d like to get my fingers in you, if m’honest.” He waits for Louis’ reaction - another groan, a desperate roll of his hips - before sliding a hand down to squeeze his arsecheek. 

“Please,” Louis whines. He’s squirming, neither away from or closer to Zayn, just shifting around like he’s too embarrassed to stay still. 

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, not actually intending on going through with it; still, he sits up to get a good look at Louis’ arse, spreading him open just enough for a glance at his hole. Louis twists his hips, dislodging Zayn’s hand as he fucks against the mattress. 

“Fuck, m’close,” Louis says, like he’s surprised. 

“Yeah, come on,” Zayn encourages. He kisses back up Louis’ spine, all the way to the back of his neck, hovering over him. “Come for me, love.” 

It only takes him a few more thrusts before Louis buries his face in the mattress and moans, going still as he comes. Zayn presses in close and rubs Louis’ back, kissing the side of his neck that he can reach, waiting for his mouth to kiss instead. Louis weakly pushes his hips forward a few more times before he stops moving and finally turns his head to the side, breathing in deeply as he blinks over at Zayn. 

Patiently, Zayn waits until Louis’ gotten some air back in his lungs before he leans in, nuzzling his nose up against Louis’. Louis laughs like he’s been expecting it and lets himself be kissed, humming when Zayn works a hand through his hair. 

“We’re gonna have to switch beds for a cuddle,” Louis mumbles. 

“You’re doing the washing, yeah?” Zayn asks, smiling. 

Louis makes an offended noise. “ _No_. No, I’ve done enough for you tonight already, love. Gave you my first blowjob and everything, you can handle a bit of washing.” 

“The worst part is that I can’t even argue with you,” Zayn admits. 

Triumphant, Louis gives him a kiss this time. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

-

Friday night finds Zayn lounging on the sofa in the living room, his legs in Harry’s lap and phone in hand. He’s been texting Louis on and off all day but hasn’t gotten anything in nearly an hour, the last message a blurry selfie of Louis and Doris. The TV’s on, but neither of them are watching; Harry’s got his laptop balanced precariously on Zayn’s shins, squinting at the eBook on his screen. 

_Not sure I like u fucking off after revising_ , Zayn types out. He hesitates before sending it, only because he hopes no one else will see, but Louis’ become very vigilant about his phone privacy. Just in case, he keeps _revising_ instead of _a shag_. 

_It does feel like I’ve used you for your body_ , Louis replies a minute later. Not worried about someone reading over his shoulder, then. Zayn smiles at the next notification he gets, _Don’t worry Zayn , I still think you’re beautiful._

_Romantic,_ Zayn texts. 

“That Louis?” Harry asks, without looking up from his screen. 

“Yeah,” Zayn says, smiling again when Louis sends back a tiny heart emoji. 

“What’s he up to?”

“Hangin’ out with the babies, I think,” Zayn says, even though he’s not sure if that’s true anymore. He texts, _What are u doing babe ?_ and locks his phone, diverting his attention to Harry instead. 

“They oughta be in bed by now,” Harry frowns, checking the clock. 

“Alright, mum,” Zayn says. He tries to knee Harry in the belly but it makes his laptop wobble dangerously, so he pokes at his elbow instead. “Let them enjoy their big bro, it’s the weekend.” 

His phone pings with a new notification, and he reads Louis’ message aloud this time, “‘Just got into bed,’ he says. Quite early for him, actually.” 

Zayn texts back, _Yeah? ;)_ , and Harry says, “You were both out early last night, too. Unless you were just pretending you weren’t there when we tried sneaking in.” 

“You tried sneaking in?” 

“Liam was a bit gone, he was still convinced ‘revising’ meant Louis was putting things in his shoes. He wanted preemptive payback.” 

“Knew it was a good idea to lock the door,” Zayn laughs, both at the idea of Liam drunkenly attempting a payback prank and imagining what their faces would’ve been like had they found him and Louis spooned up naked in Louis’ bed. 

When his phone chimes again, Zayn turns it on vibrate, conscious of drawing any more attention to it. Louis’ texted, _Don’t be naughty_. 

While he’s trying to find the emoji with its tongue sticking out, Harry asks, “What was he _revising_ for again?” 

“His Digital Cultures module, I think,” Zayn says automatically. He keeps his eyes on the little bubble indicating that Louis’ typing something back. 

“Didn’t he finish that last year?” Harry asks, another frown in his voice. Zayn glances up at him, but he’s still staring at his screen, only half engaged. 

“Uh,” Zayn starts, unable to come up with any feasible excuse. Louis’ message says, _I have been thinking about something all day though_. 

Harry doesn’t ask again, so Zayn doesn’t attempt to answer. He sends to Louis, _What thing?_

Everything is silent for a while, the telly droning on quietly in the background. After a few minutes, Louis responds, _The thing you said,_ and Zayn looks from Harry to his phone before beginning to stretch. 

“Think m’gonna chill in my room for a bit,” he says casually. 

“Alright,” Harry agrees, lifting his computer so Zayn can swing his legs off his lap. “Coming back later?” 

“Might,” Zayn shrugs. 

“Goodnight just in case, then,” Harry says, holding a hand out. 

Zayn grabs it and squeezes, leaning in to kiss Harry’s temple before he stands up, “Night, Hazza.” 

Responding to Louis on the way to their room, Zayn says _U know I talk a lot of shit when I’m horny_. He grabs his pillow and settles on Louis’ bed, the sheets of his own still crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

Louis texts back quickly this time, _About your fingers_. 

Zayn sends _What about them_ and doesn’t bother to lock his phone this time, watching the screen. 

_Stop_ , Louis says, almost immediately. It makes Zayn breathe out a laugh, how Louis gets flustered even through text. 

_Have u before?_ he asks instead. 

_No_ , Louis replies.

_By yourself either?_

_Nope_ .

Feeling a faint stir of arousal, Zayn sends, _We can try it if u want_. 

Quickly, Louis says _Maybe_. It takes a moment to type his second message. _I won’t be trying anything here , I don’t know how I managed even a simple wank for as long as I did._

Zayn curls up on Louis’ bed until his knees are tucked against the wall, smiling. _Thank God for uni_. 

_Thank god !_ , Louis agrees. 

-

Louis arrives back at the house on Sunday evening, duffel full of fresh laundry slung over his shoulder. He gives Niall half a hug on his way through the halls, kicks at Harry’s shin after Harry musses up his hair, and tries to jump on Liam’s back while still carrying his bag. Zayn watches from the doorway of their room, mildly endeared, until Louis spots him and hops off of Liam, slinging an arm around Zayn’s neck. 

“You’ll help me unpack all my worldly possessions, won’t you?” he asks, thrusting his bag into Zayn’s arms. 

“I’ll dump them on the floor,” Zayn agrees. He looks a bit guiltily at their room, where his bed still sits unmade against the leftmost wall. 

“Have you been sleeping in my bed all weekend?” Louis asks. Zayn shrugs, feeling a little sheepish because of how he’s been too lazy to make his own bed, and Louis coos at him, “Aw, Zayn.” 

“Missed you terribly,” Zayn says, tossing Louis’ bag onto his bed so he can loop an arm around Louis’ waist. 

“I’m sure you did, stuck with these clowns,” Louis says loudly, looking behind them to see if any of the lads are listening. He huffs a bit when he sees no one is in the hall. 

Zayn smiles, and with their heads bent so close together it’s impossible to miss Louis’ eyes lingering on his mouth. They both glance out the door again, listening for any noise; Harry might be in his room now, and Niall and Liam are likely in the kitchen from how far away the squeaking wooden floorboards sound. Louis leans in and gives Zayn a quick, dry kiss, his fingertips lightly pressed into Zayn’s neck. 

“Oh, you’re gettin’ brave now,” Zayn teases, tugging him in closer until they’re more face-to-face than side-by-side. “With the door open and everything.” 

“Give us a hug, then, don’t look suspicious,” Louis says, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing tight. Zayn laughs and does the same, holding Louis’ waist and tucking his chin over his shoulder. 

From the doorway a moment later, Liam says, “Aw. Would you two like some alone time or are you gonna come watch the film?” 

“Alone time,” Zayn says, turning his head to rest his cheek on Louis’ shoulder so he can look over at Liam. 

“Why no film?” Louis asks. 

“Harry’s picking,” Zayn tells him. 

“Ah. Alone time,” Louis agrees. 

“Come on,” Liam whines. “He’ll feel bad.” 

Louis lets Zayn go, but pats him on the back and keeps his hand there. “That is not my fault. He always picks the soppiest films and I’ve been around crying children all weekend, I don’t want to hear him at it as well.” 

“It’s just _Love Actually_ tonight, I think,” Liam says, very convincingly. 

Zayn looks to Louis, amused when he lets out a heaving sigh. “Fine,” he says. 

-

The film isn’t _Love Actually_. It is a rom-com though, silly and formulaic enough that Zayn loses interest a quarter of the way through. He’s sat on the sofa, packed tightly in between Louis and Niall, his arm around Louis’ shoulders. By the time the pretty brunette lead is realizing with horror that she fancies her co-star, Louis can’t stop yawning. 

“Tired?” Zayn whispers, mouth against Louis’ ear, trying not to disturb the others. 

Louis simply nods, and before Zayn gets a chance to offer, he’s turning to curl up a bit, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder. Affection flares in Zayn’s chest, and he places a gentle hand on top of Louis’ head, smoothing down the hair. “Could go to bed,” he says quietly. 

“I’ll tough it out,” Louis murmurs back. 

Despite knowing they both have separate 9am lectures in the morning and that Louis must be exhausted from being with his siblings all weekend, Zayn had still casually hoped they might have time to hook up tonight. He’d thought it through quite thoroughly over the last few days, imagining the ways he’d draw attention to his fingers and tease Louis all night, send him off to his lecture fucked out and exhausted in the morning. Now, actually faced with his physical presence, Zayn’s content to run his fingers through Louis’ hair and let him doze on his shoulder. 

When the film ends, Zayn’s surprised to find that Louis hasn’t fallen asleep; he yawns again as the credits roll before straightening up and stretching, blinking at them all and smiling at Zayn, the only one who’s looking back. “Bedtime for me, lads,” he says. 

“Same,” Zayn and Liam reply simultaneously. 

Niall pats Zayn’s knee and stands, working out the kinks in his back. “That was a terrible movie, Harry,” he says. 

“It was a bit shit,” Harry agrees from his spot on the floor, flopping onto his back. 

“Two hours I’ll never get back,” Louis says, nudging his toes up against the ticklish part of Harry’s side before standing as well. 

Zayn follows, feeling oddly cold without everyone else’s body heat surrounding him. “Night, boys,” he says, offering Liam a hand to help him out of the floor and accepting the goodnight hug he gets in return. 

They take turns cleaning their teeth, fitting two at a time next to each other at the sink; Zayn slips in first beside Liam, Niall and Louis replacing them while Harry waits his turn, still sprawled out on the living room floor while he scrolls through his phone. Alone in their bedroom, Zayn picks up his clean sheets from the naked mattress and sets about finally making his bed, feeling himself get drowsier as he does. Louis comes in and crawls onto his own bed with a pleased groan, faceplanting into Zayn’s pillow. 

“I _am_ gonna need that back,” Zayn tells him, tucking his sheet under the edge of his mattress. 

“It smells incredible,” Louis says, muffled. “You can have mine instead.” 

“Bloody thief,” Zayn says, though he doesn’t mind. He piles his blanket on top of his bed and walks across the room to retrieve a pillow, no matter which one. Louis rolls onto his side at the sound of footsteps, curling his fingers possessively into Zayn’s pillow with his head resting on his own. “Gimme one of ‘em, c’mon.” 

Louis lifts his head to let Zayn grab the pillow behind him, but decides to sit up entirely, beckoning Zayn closer to him with one hand on his shoulder. “C’mere first,” he mumbles. Zayn bends down easily, already sure of what Louis wants from the way his chin tips up the closer Zayn gets. He kisses him softly, once, lips parted just enough to taste the different brand of toothpaste Louis uses. When they part, Louis smiles up at him and says, “Will you turn off my light, love?” 

“That’s why I get a kiss, then,” Zayn says accusingly, grabbing Louis’ pillow as he walks back to the desk to turn off Louis’ lamp. 

“Well, that’s not the _only_ reason, but…” Louis trails off, settling into bed, his face burrowed back into Zayn’s pillow. 

“Goodnight, you knob,” Zayn says, smiling when Louis laughs into their dark room. 

-

On Wednesday afternoon, Louis trudges into their bedroom and kicks the door closed with one sodden foot, dripping water at a rate so quickly that puddles form beneath him in seconds. 

Frowning, Zayn says, “Could you not have taken your shoes off at the _front_ door?” 

“I’m seconds away from hypothermia,” Louis complains. He kicks his shoes into the corner and peels off his top that is completely soaked through, tossing it in the same direction. It lands with a vaguely disgusting _plop_. 

“Get your trousers off and c’mere,” Zayn offers, shuffling himself and his laptop to the side until he’s pressed against the wall. “Your pants aren’t wet too, are they?” 

“God, I hope not,” Louis whines. “This is all literally from walking up the hill. That’s it.” 

“Better take an umbrella tomorrow, darling,” Zayn tells him, watching Louis shove his damp trousers down his thighs, the weight of them dragging his pants down a few inches as well. 

“Fuck off,” Louis says mildly. The trousers he leaves in a crumpled pile at his feet, soaking up the water he dripped onto the hardwood. He hastily pats down his thighs and bum to check how wet they might be, and goes to rummage around in their shared closet for a jumper to pull on. The first one he finds is a threadbare hoodie, black worn down to dark grey, and he tugs it over his still-dripping head without bothering to put on a shirt. 

As he settles onto the bed, Zayn says, “Didn’t even bring a jacket, either. Tsk.” 

“Shut it, Mum,” Louis says, dragging Zayn’s blanket up over his bare thighs. “You know full well it was quite warm this morning.” 

“I know how to check the Weather app on my phone, as well,” Zayn teases. 

Louis heaves a sigh. “Can we move on, please.” 

“Hm.” Zayn looks over Louis’ face, reaching up to rub a knuckle over his smooth chin. “Between looking like a drowned terrier and having a shave, I hardly recognize you.” 

Louis ducks his head to bite at Zayn’s fingers, undeterred when he misses. “I wouldn’t call that ‘moving on’, but I think I look dashing. Even while wet.” 

“Very,” Zayn agrees, letting his eyes linger on the clean-shaven skin surrounding Louis’ lips. 

“Gotta have a no snogging policy until it grows back a bit now, though,” Louis says. “I can’t handle your beard burn.” 

“I wasn’t even thinking about that ’til you mentioned it,” Zayn says, a little dishonestly. He rubs his palm across his jaw and shrugs. “It’s not _that_ bad.” 

“It _is_ ,” Louis insists, “and it’s fuckin’ obvious. Imagine I walk back out there with loads of little red scratches all over me face. Dead giveaway, mate.” 

“Mm, I’ll be gentle,” Zayn says; he leans in and Louis turns his head away, protesting with a smile he tries to hide, but he doesn’t stop Zayn from giving his cheek a kiss. 

Casually, as if he’s now thinking about something else entirely, Louis asks, “Is anyone else home?” 

“Liam is,” Zayn answers. “Been in his room all day, though, must not be feelin’ too social.” 

“Must not,” Louis repeats, turning his head back to face Zayn. He looks between Zayn’s eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze down to his mouth, sighing. “Are you really gonna make me break my policy literally one minute after making it?” 

Zayn smiles, “We don’t have to snog.” 

“I do like your mouth, though,” Louis admits, reaching out to gently pinch Zayn’s bottom lip between two fingers. 

Zayn grabs his wrist and holds it still to kiss the pad of Louis’ thumb. Watching his face, he says, “Can use my mouth without snogging.” 

It only takes a moment for Louis’ cheeks to go pink. He looks away from Zayn to gather his bearings before saying, “What kind of boy d’you think I am, Zayn?” 

“Should I answer that honestly, or…?” 

Louis laughs, releasing a bit of nervous tension. “Wanker,” he says, twisting his hand out of Zayn’s grip to try and slap his cheek. Zayn grabs him again, his forearm this time, and shoves just enough that Louis realizes his precarious position on the edge of the bed. 

“Watch it,” he says, “I can push ya right back into your own rainwater.” 

“ _Me_ watch it?” Louis says, loud and nonsensical. “You’ve just called me a slag!” 

“So dramatic,” Zayn teases, pulling Louis back in close with an arm around his waist. He leaves it there when Louis settles against his side. 

“So _rude_ ,” Louis counters. He gently pushes Zayn’s laptop away from them, towards the foot of the bed where it may be safer. 

“Was using that,” Zayn complains, despite the fact that he hasn’t so much as spared the screen a glance since Louis arrived. 

“Tough shit,” Louis says sweetly, curling a hand around Zayn’s thigh and turning to face him. 

He doesn’t move away when Zayn leans in to kiss him, this time. 

-

The hall light finally goes off at half past 2 in the morning, and Zayn tries to act as though he hasn’t been waiting for it since they both climbed into his bed after turning off their lamps. Yawning, he says, “It’s late.” 

Louis smiles beside him, amused, face illuminated in the harsh white light from his phone. “So very late. We should go to sleep.” 

“Good thing I’ve only got Art Practice tomorrow,” Zayn says, “doesn’t require much mental power. In case I’m up any later, for some reason.” 

“You really ought to switch beds, bro. You know I can be quite an _active_ sleeper, don’t wanna get in the way of your beauty rest.” 

Zayn hums for a moment like he’s thinking and says, “You’re right. Night.” He gets as far as swinging one leg over the edge of the bed and sitting halfway up before Louis laughs, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to tug him back down. 

“Such an idiot,” he says fondly, locking his phone and sending them into near-complete darkness, with only the streetlights and the moon outside sneaking some brightness in through the blinds covering their window. 

“You should skip— what’ve you got in the morning? You should skip it,” Zayn tells him. 

“Media,” Louis says. He leans up and stretches his arm to place his phone on top of the dresser behind Zayn’s bed. Afterwards, he rolls on top of him, wriggling around to knock the breath out of Zayn’s lungs. “You used to be such a good influence, Zayn.” 

“You’ve corrupted me. I was a good lad before you decided we should wank each other off that one time.” 

“It was an incredible idea though, was it not?” Louis asks. 

“It was an alright idea,” Zayn allows, squeezing Louis’ waist in a bit of a hug. “Now f’you play your cards right you may get more than a handjob.” 

“How should I play my cards, then?” 

“Mm… Politely?” Zayn says. 

“Sounds like a terrible card strategy,” Louis mumbles, dropping his head down to press a kiss to Zayn’s mouth. 

“Don’t even know how to play cards,” Zayn agrees in a whisper. 

Having Louis on top of him frees up both of Zayn’s hands, something he fancies taking advantage of; he combs his fingers through Louis’ hair, pleased with the way his mouth goes slack more quickly, opening up for deeper kisses. Zayn finds himself keeping as quiet as he can, not out of reluctance to be loud but in order to hear all of the sounds that Louis makes. It doesn’t take long before the soft whines to start forming in his throat, released between breaths or when Zayn slides their tongues together to coax Louis’ into his mouth. Without moving away from the kiss, Louis slowly starts shifting on top of Zayn, pulling his legs forward until he’s straddling Zayn’s hips. The weight of him settles right over Zayn’s cock, and he manages a quick hum into Louis’ mouth before Louis pulls away to breathe. 

“Don’t seem quite so worried about beard burn anymore,” Zayn teases, fitting his hands around Louis’ hips. 

“Not so much,” Louis admits. He gently rubs his cheek against Zayn’s, almost like a cat, and Zayn laughs. “Wanted a proper snog off you all day, if I’m honest.” 

“Don’t gotta wait til bedtime for that, babe,” Zayn says, kissing Louis’ chin and lower lip. “I’ll give you a snog whenever you like.” 

“Aren’t you sweet,” Louis says. His elbows dig into Zayn’s shoulders as he cups Zayn’s face in both hands, gazing down at him with a smile that’s barely visible in the meager moonlight. He says it like it’s banter, but both of his thumbs sweep over Zayn’s cheekbones and he kisses Zayn’s lips so gently that it speaks more clearly than his voice, filling Zayn with an aggressive fondness that starts in his belly and spreads to his fingertips. He reaches up to hold one of Louis’ wrists and sighs when Louis takes that hand off of his face, curling his fingers around Zayn’s instead. 

Zayn twists their fingers together and kisses the corner of Louis’ mouth. Unable to keep himself from saying it, he murmurs, “You’re lovely.” 

He feels Louis’ face scrunch up in playful distaste as soon as it’s out of his mouth. “Shh,” he says dismissively, tucking his face into Zayn’s neck to kiss him there, leaving their hands caught together. 

“We were having a moment and you’ve ruined it,” Zayn jokes, dragging the tip of his nose along the shell of Louis’ ear. 

Louis gives him a bite that’s just sharp enough to make his breath hitch. “Reckon I might like a different kind of moment.” 

“Careful with those teeth,” Zayn says, even as he’s tilting his head to give Louis more room. 

There’s a certain teenage thrill that comes with letting Louis mouth at his neck, that underlying threat of him sucking hard enough to leave a bruise that Zayn can’t cover in the morning. He won’t, always as careful as he knows he needs to be, but Zayn thinks that if Louis tried to mark him up, he probably wouldn’t stop him. He squeezes Louis’ hand and cups the back of his head, breathing out a sigh when Louis’ hips shift in his lap. 

In the end, Louis only places a series of light kisses against Zayn’s neck before moving away, sitting up to pull his shirt over his head. Zayn wishes they’d kept one of the lights on, just so he could see Louis’ body in more detail than the fuzzy, grey darkness allows. He tries to see through touch instead, trailing his fingers over the grooves of Louis’ ribs and up to his chest, his mouth already waiting when Louis kisses him again. Louis hums a simple acknowledgment when Zayn strokes over both his nipples, but the longer he rubs around them, making them taut under his fingertips, the more restless Louis gets. He lets Zayn do it, kissing him slowly until Zayn starts to pinch at his nipples and he loses focus, gasping into Zayn’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles; he sucks Louis’ bottom lip and gives him a harder pinch, rolling his hips up against Louis when he lets out a quiet groan. 

“So weird how good that feels,” Louis whispers, following it with a laugh. 

“Not weird,” Zayn assures him between kisses. 

“Makes me feel like’m a bird,” Louis insists. 

Zayn pinches harder at Louis’ nipples and tugs just a little, relishing in the quiet whine Louis lets out. “Is it gettin’ you wet for me, then?” 

Louis shivers, his open mouth pressed to Zayn’s cheek, and doesn’t reply. Leaving one hand at Louis’ chest to keep plucking his nipple, Zayn slips the other between them to rub at the front of Louis’ trackies until he finds the already-hard line of his cock to curl around. It jerks under his hand so Zayn gives it a squeeze, turning his head just enough to kiss the side of Louis’ face. 

“Lovely boy,” he says again, moving the hand against Louis’ chest around to his lower back. Louis doesn’t argue it this time, instead tilting his head to catch Zayn’s mouth in a more heated kiss, rocking forward into Zayn’s hand. It finally gives Zayn some friction against his cock; he tries to encourage Louis to keep moving, guiding his hips down further until both of their cocks are lined up together. 

Zayn sneaks his fingertips underneath the waistband of Louis’ pants and trackies both, gently digging them into the swell of Louis’ arse to urge him on. They’re both starting to breathe heavily, especially Louis, drawing in deeper breaths every time their mouths part; when Zayn slides his hands further into Louis’ clothes, Louis squirms. 

“Cheeky,” he breathes out. 

In response, Zayn squeezes his arse with both hands and pulls his cheeks apart, making Louis’ breath catch his throat. Recognizing the opportunity, Zayn asks, “You thought about what you said at the weekend?” 

He knows he doesn’t have to clarify from the way Louis’ fingers wind their way into his hair and pull. Louis nods, wordlessly. 

Gently pushing for an answer, Zayn says, “And…?” 

“And…” Louis repeats, losing the tail of the word in Zayn’s mouth as he kisses him, blatantly stalling. 

Ready to wait him out, Zayn just kisses back and rolls his hips up against Louis’ body, slowly stroking the fingers of one hand along the cleft of Louis’ arse. When Louis doesn’t attempt to move away, Zayn gets a bit bolder; he spreads Louis open just enough to drag one fingertip fully between his cheeks. Louis abruptly pulls his mouth away and curls in on himself to rest his head on Zayn’s shoulder, panting. 

“I might hate it,” Louis mumbles into the collar of Zayn’s shirt, sounding unconvinced. 

“I’ll stop if you hate it,” Zayn promises in a murmur against Louis’ ear, rubbing that one fingertip over Louis’ hole. He’s rocking his hips more steadily against Zayn’s body, pulling the elastic bands of his clothes tight around Zayn’s wrist, but Zayn ignores it to feel him. There’s a slight dip where his hole is, the vulnerable place where Zayn knows he could push just a little to be inside him. 

“Zayn,” Louis whines, a bit petulantly, like he’s been trying to talk himself out of it but Zayn’s not letting him. “God, s’fuckin’ embarrassing.” 

“I love it, though,” Zayn whispers to him, squeezing his arsecheek with the hand not petting his hole, “I wanna get my fingers in you, baby, c’mon.” 

“Stop it,” Louis breathes out weakly. The helpless stutter of his hips against Zayn’s gives away how aroused he really is. 

“I will f’you don’t like it,” Zayn tells him again. He extracts his hands from Louis’ clothes and asks, “Can you reach my Vaseline from here?” 

That makes Louis laugh. “Sexy,” he mumbles, bracing his hands on Zayn’s chest to push himself up and squint through the dark towards Zayn’s dresser. “Thought you used that as ‘chapstick’.” 

“Oh, you know better than that,” Zayn says. “Especially since you’ve spied on me having a wank.” He starts to tug Louis’ bottoms down his hips when he stretches up to reach the tub, pulling them over the bulge of his cock. 

“Don’t distract me or I’ll drop it,” Louis chastises him; Zayn grins at the break in his voice when he cups the head of Louis’ cock in his palm and squeezes. “Fuck, what’d I _just_ say?” 

“You didn’t drop it,” Zayn points out, sliding his hand down in a slow stroke to hold more of him. Still, he lets go when Louis sets the tub on his chest, climbing off of Zayn to pull his clothes off the rest of the way. 

Louis doesn’t say anything else after he tosses his clothes into the floor, and Zayn can feel the tension seeping back into him, the nervous energy in his touch when he pushes Zayn’s shirt up his belly. He lies back against the pillows and watches Zayn take his top off, rubbing his fingers along the line of his own hip. The next kiss Zayn gives him feels frantic, so he tries to calm it by holding Louis’ face in his hands and forcing them to slow down, guiding Louis’ head and tilting his own. He puts all of his focus into their mouths, kissing deep and thorough the way Louis likes until he’s whining again, gripping Zayn’s shoulders. Even when he ends the kiss, Zayn gets caught up in it; he pulls back and blinks down at Louis, dipping back in to kiss him again before Louis’ eyes can open. 

When he pulls away properly, Zayn pushes the hair off of Louis’ forehead and asks, “You want to?” 

“Yeah,” Louis replies after only a second’s hesitation. He looks like he wants to say something else, the purse of his mouth still a bit unsure, but he keeps quiet so Zayn lets him be, sitting up beside him after one final kiss. 

Despite his ambivalence, Louis parts his thighs after Zayn squeezes the one nearest to him, before he can even ask. His cock is hard enough that it’s straining away from his body, foreskin caught under the ridge of the head to expose his wet tip. Zayn doesn’t bother pretending he’s not eager, gently tugging Louis’ legs open wider and crawling in between them to have a look. He still can’t see as much as he’d like in the dark but he knows Louis needs that barrier, something to hide how red he’s probably gotten from putting himself on display. 

Zayn opens the tub of jelly and scoops out a generous dollop with two fingers, unsure of how much he’ll need. It may not be _ideal_ but it’s certainly slick enough; he coats those two fingers completely and does a third just in case, aware of Louis watching him. 

“Gonna make a right mess of your sheets with that,” Louis says. 

“You’re always makin’ me do that,” Zayn agrees, examining his fingers. Half of the jelly’s still smeared across his left hand and he doesn’t need nearly that much to get the job done. Instead of wiping it on the bed like he could do, Zayn drags his fingers from the tip of Louis’ cock down the shaft, depositing all that leftover slickness before giving him a few slow strokes. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Louis breathes, arching up into the touch. 

“Might as well get ya nice and wet here, too,” Zayn says. He makes sure to swipe his thumb over Louis’ tip a few times to make his legs twitch a bit before pulling his hand away. “Can touch yourself while I fuck you, yeah?” 

Louis’ next breath comes with a quiet groan, and he rubs a hand over his face like he wasn’t expecting it. It’s hot, watching him react so strongly just to the words. Zayn knows there’s a chance he’ll hate actually having something inside him, but he holds out hope that even in that case he’ll still be able to talk Louis off with the idea. 

He waits until Louis closes a hand around his cock before using his still-slick fingers to feel between his cheeks, rubbing over his skin until he finds his hole. Louis squirms already, shifting his hips and his legs until he’s sufficiently comfortable, spread open the slightest bit more for Zayn’s fingers. 

The first slips in so easily that Zayn notices Louis’ sharp gasp before he notices that he’s inside already. Louis seems to hold his breath as they both get used to it; Zayn pushes forward to slide it in deeper, torn between straining to watch a part of himself sink into Louis’ arse or to see his face. He flicks his eyes between the two, curling his other hand around Louis’ thigh before pulling his finger back and then pushing it in again. Louis doesn’t let out the breath in his lungs until Zayn’s knuckles are pressed against the curve of his arse. 

“Not too bad,” he whispers, probably not as impassively as he’d like. 

“Doesn’t look like it,” Zayn tells him, building a slow, slow rhythm of slipping his finger out and back in. His cock pulses every time he feels Louis’ muscles go tight around him. 

“God,” Louis shivers, “thought it was supposed to hurt.” He starts to pull himself off, twice as fast as Zayn’s moving but still slow enough to be leisurely. 

“Not f’you do it right, I bet,” Zayn says. 

“You must be doing something right,” Louis says; before Zayn can respond, he adds, “Think I can take more.” 

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles. He pulls out completely and rubs at Louis’ hole again, impressed by the way he stretches and closes back up right away. His skin is slippery enough that Zayn has to try a few times to get inside again, keeping his two fingers pressed together to push past the resistance and back into Louis’ body. He can feel the tightness this time, the way Louis squeezes so hard around him that his heartbeat resonates in his fingertips. Louis moans properly as soon as they’re in him, loud enough that Zayn shushes him gently, a soft _shhh_. 

“Oh, fuck,” Louis swears, hand moving much quicker on his cock, “okay, okay, fuck.” 

“Gotta be quiet, love, hush,” Zayn whispers, purposely quieter himself to coax Louis into mimicking him, as much as he’d rather let him be as loud as he likes. He’s never gotten this vocal. “Feels good, yeah?” 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Louis says, voice obligingly lower. “Do— move ‘em like you were before.” 

“Fuck you like I did before?” Zayn asks, unable to help himself. Louis’ arse clenches around him afterward and Zayn feels his stomach drop from sheer arousal, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock while he does as Louis asks. 

As soon as he starts moving his fingers, a bit quicker than before, Louis gets loud again - at least, louder than he _should_ be in their room, just a door away from Niall and across the hall from the other boys’ rooms. Louis seems to know it, too, throwing his arm over his face so he can pant into the bend of his elbow and muffle his groans there. His whole body’s gone tense like he’s close already, so tight inside that Zayn’s muscles start to burn from the exertion it takes to work his fingers back in deep every time he draws them out. He almost wants to pull Louis’ hand away from his cock to keep him like this longer, so worked up from getting fucked with something. 

Ultimately, the desire to make Louis come wins. His thighs start to close the closer he gets to orgasm, knees digging into Zayn’s sides; it makes it hard to fuck him properly with less room to work with. Zayn tries to keep his fingers tucked in deep and curls them up towards himself like he’d do with a girl, just the way it was described on the websites he’d browsed after Louis mentioned he was still thinking about it. It must work, judging from the way Louis’ hips rock down against his fingers. 

“Come on, baby,” Zayn murmurs, pressing and rubbing against that same spot inside Louis that feels just different enough for him to find by touch. “Want you to come on my fingers, yeah? Wanna feel how tight you get around me.” 

Louis responds with a wordless groan, teeth set into the soft skin of his bicep. He’s still too loud even with his mouth covered, but Zayn can’t bring himself to shush him again, greedily turned on by the sound of Louis letting go in a way he never has before. The hand still working his cock is so erratic that Zayn knows he’s almost there, so Zayn does what he can to push him over the edge, rolling Louis’ balls in his free hand and working his fingers in and out a few times again. 

When he comes, Louis lifts his hips entirely off the bed. He’s clenched so tightly that Zayn doesn’t bother moving his hand, just follows Louis’ hips and lets his fingers stay inside, mumbling his encouragement between every whispered _shhh_ , rubbing up Louis’ belly. The most noise Louis makes is the whine he lets out just as his hips leave the mattress, still muffled into his own arm but distinct and sharp in the quiet night. He tries to squirm away much quicker than he usually does, too, whimpering even as he keeps stroking himself. 

“Please,” Louis breathes, “s’too much, too much, fuck,” twisting his hips until Zayn’s fingers slip out. He curls in on himself then, turning until he buries his face in a pillow where he can let out an exhausted groan. 

“So good, Lou,” Zayn says, spooning up behind him to kiss his neck. Louis shivers under his mouth, still panting hard; Zayn rubs his chest as soothingly as he can manage with his cock so hard, waiting for Louis to calm down. He only realizes he’s been idly rubbing at Louis’ nipples when Louis finally whines again and bats him away, rolling onto his belly to escape Zayn’s hands. 

Half into the pillow, Louis complains, “Fuckin’— can’t even let me go soft before you’re feelin’ me up for another go, eh?”

“I make you come that hard and you’re not gonna gimme a hand?” Zayn counters, climbing on top of Louis to stretch out on his back, settling until his cock fits nicely just in the cleft of Louis’ arse. “I haven’t even got the first go round yet.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t think ahead, Zayn,” Louis says. He turns his head on the pillow, putting his profile into view; Zayn kisses the corner of his eye and then the side of his nose, gently rolling his hips down against Louis’ body. 

“C’mon,” he says, lower this time, “don’t leave me hangin’, got me so hard from that.” 

“Don’t think I am, to be honest,” Louis says, pointedly arching his body just enough to push back against Zayn’s hips. “Letting you use my arse, aren’t I?” 

Zayn ignores the shiver that runs through him at that, kissing across Louis’ bare shoulders. “This isn’t my idea of _using_ your arse.” 

“What is?” Louis asks. Instead of waiting for an answer, he reaches back and tugs at the waist of Zayn’s pyjamas, snapping the band back against his hip. “Get these off.” 

All too eager to oblige, Zayn sits up to finally shed the rest of his clothes and finds that his cock has leaked straight through his pants, leaving a wet mess in its wake. He ends up straddling Louis’ thighs, dragging the fingertips of one hand along the cleft of Louis’ arse while he squeezes his cock with the other. 

“Simple man, aren’t you, love?” Louis teases, grinning over his shoulder. His face drops into a gasp when Zayn draws his hand back to give his left cheek a slap. 

“So mouthy,” Zayn replies back, equally teasing, placing one hand on each cheek to spread Louis open. A bit obsessed now that he’s allowed to touch, he drags the pad of his thumb over Louis’ hole and watches his own cock jerk as Louis clenches against the hint of contact. 

Quietly, Louis mumbles, “Could push right into me, couldn’t you? Already stretched me out.” 

“Lou,” Zayn starts; past having the self control to stop himself now, he takes hold of his cock again and starts to stroke himself, finally, breathing out a groan at how overwhelming the relief feels. 

“Yeah,” Louis encourages, “think m’still slick enough, aren’t I? Enough to take your cock?” 

“Jesus,” Zayn sighs, lowering his hips to Louis’, nestling his bare cock between his cheeks again before stretching out on top of Louis, kissing his jaw. “Too tight for me yet, babe.” 

“It’d feel good like that, though,” Louis insists, bracing his palms flat on the bed for leverage to push back against Zayn’s cock. Zayn slides his hands along Louis’ arms until he covers Louis’ hands with his own, grinding hard against him. 

“It would,” he agrees. “Think it’d feel good for you, too, yeah?” 

“Yeah, I want it,” Louis says, trying to curl his fingers around Zayn’s but only managing to overlap a few of them. 

Zayn can feel the moment Louis shifts back just right, opening himself enough that Zayn’s cock slides right between his cheeks, path eased by how slick he still is, the extra mess of the jelly making it smooth. They both let out quiet groans, squeezing each others’ fingers. 

When he can think again, Zayn mumbles into Louis’ shoulder, “Want what?” He keeps his hips moving, careful not to push too far forward and lose the position that keeps his cock just between Louis’ cheeks. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Louis replies, shameless now. 

A bit pleadingly, Zayn says, “Say it again.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” Louis repeats without hesitation, like he knows that’s what Zayn needs to hear to get off, “just want you, Zayn, want you to fuck me, c’mon.” 

He knows he’s digging his nails into the backs of Louis’ hands when he starts getting close, but Louis doesn’t react to it, just keeps talking loud enough for Zayn to hear. When he comes, it’s with both of Louis’ hands pinned underneath his own, his top row of teeth pressed into the flesh of Louis’ shoulder and his cock rubbing between Louis’ arsecheeks, catching on his hole. Fuzzily, he hears Louis moan while his cock’s emptying, making a mess of Louis’ arse and lower back, and before he’s even finished coming he’s surging up to kiss Louis’ mouth, both of them straining their necks to reach. 

They kiss while Zayn tries to breathe, fucked out and sloppy; Zayn slowly slides off of Louis’ back and stretches out beside him instead, never leaving his mouth, just for a better angle to kiss him. It lasts what feels like forever, neither of them bothering to end it, just shifting until they’re in a more comfortable position. Zayn ends up with Louis’ head pillowed on his arm for so long that his fingers tingle with the loss of blood where they’re buried in Louis’ hair. 

After they finally stop the kisses, jaws too tired to continue, Louis laughs against Zayn’s mouth, “You’re an animal, by the way.”

Putting on the most offended tone he can muster, Zayn replies, “Whatevs, you’re disgusting. Got come all over yourself _and_ my bed. Again.” 

“We’ll shag in my bed next time,” Louis promises. “D’you wanna sneak out and have a shower with me, then?” 

It’s the first time he’s offered. Zayn smiles, “Could do.” 

-

Louis’ phone chirps shrilly to life at half past 8, all the way across the room on Zayn’s dresser. It jerks Zayn out of an intensely comfortable sleep, and he vaguely registers himself groaning. 

“Louis,” he slurs, shoving at Louis’ arm that’s lying heavy across his chest. “ _Louis_. Fuckin’ turn it off.” 

“Stop it,” Louis complains, pushing his face against Zayn’s shoulder. 

“Turn it _off_.” 

“Stop, it’ll stop. In a minute.” 

“Off!” Zayn insists, trying to push Louis away. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Louis curses, slapping at Zayn’s hands before he stumbles out of bed and over to his phone. The silence when he ends the alarm is almost as piercing as the sound itself, but Zayn relaxes again. 

“Thanks,” he says, holding his arm back out for Louis when he climbs into bed again. 

“Tosser,” Louis replies, but he curls back around Zayn and tucks his face into Zayn’s neck. 

 

The next time Zayn wakes up, he’s on his back with Louis’ head pillowed on his chest while he scrolls through his phone. Zayn feels a bit overheated, blinking his eyes open to peer around their sunny room. 

“Time?” he asks. 

“12:43,” Louis responds, tilting his head up to look at Zayn’s face. “Got your wish after all, making me skip all my lectures.” 

“Weekend,” Zayn cheers sleepily, waving one fist around for a quick second. 

“Yay,” Louis cheers back in the same pathetic voice. Zayn gives him a gentle smack on the back of the head and then pets him instead. Louis doesn’t seem bothered. He says, “Niall’s sent all the lads a text about going to Revolution tonight. Harry’s in since he’s going home tomorrow, and me and you are required to attend under penalty of death since we blew him off last week.” 

“Harsh,” Zayn says. 

Louis tosses his phone onto the mattress and squirms around until his head’s on Zayn’s shoulder. All the places where their bare skin touched feel sticky. “Dunno, I’m up for it. Haven’t had a proper shag in _ages_.” 

“In _ages_ ,” Zayn repeats. “Not a single orgasm.” 

“Not a one,” Louis says, resting his hand on Zayn’s belly. 

“Should I let you have the room to yourself tonight? Get you a ‘do not disturb’ sign?” 

“Please do. Can’t believe I ever thought having a roommate was a good idea,” Louis sighs. He hooks his ankle around Zayn’s, his cold toes pressing into Zayn’s skin. 

“Am I the reason you can’t get laid?” Zayn asks, brushing a few stray hairs away from Louis’ face. 

“Well, I mean…” Louis begins, wincing dramatically. “Who’s gonna wanna shag me with you hangin’ around all the time? To be frank, you’re so hideous that it’s distracting, mate.” Zayn breaks at that, one quick laugh bubbling up, but Louis interrupts it immediately with, “This is very serious, Zayn.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Zayn apologizes, straightening his face back out. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’m sure I’ll find someone who could use my company tonight.” 

“Good lad,” Louis says, patting Zayn’s chest. He crowds in closer and kisses Zayn’s neck once, sending a ripple of goosebumps along his skin. 

“F’you come up here and gimme another kiss I’ll stay away the whole weekend,” Zayn says. 

Louis props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Zayn. “The whole weekend, hm?” 

“Yup.” 

“The idea is repulsive, but a weekend’s a weekend,” Louis says. Zayn manages to hold back his smile until after Louis’ given him his kiss. 

-

After the five of them have ordered a week’s worth of food and drink to share they settle at a table, one of the booths tucked against a wall of the bar. Louis pulls Zayn into his booth while Niall and Harry squeeze into the one opposite them, and Liam’s left glancing between the two of them, weighing his options. 

“Time to choose, Payno. Which of your parents do you love the most?” Louis asks, gesturing first to Niall and Harry, “Your mums,” and then himself and Zayn, “or your dads?” 

“Be sensible, Liam,” Harry says in his best mum voice. 

“That is good advice, to be fair,” Liam says. “Last time we went out together a certain one of my dads made me chug all our leftover pints before I could leave.” 

Zayn looks at Louis and frowns, “That’s disgusting.” 

“I was too poor to buy him a fresh one and he wasn’t nearly drunk enough,” Louis explains. 

“Waste not, want not,” Niall agrees. 

“Thank you, Niall.” 

“I’m not sure I trust you yet,” Liam says, sliding into the booth beside Harry. “Sorry, Zayn. Other dad. If we had room I’d invite you to sit with me and mums.” 

“Eh, somebody’s gotta keep this one in check,” Zayn says, slinging an arm around Louis’ neck and tugging him into a loose headlock that’s actually a bit more like a hug. Louis simply goes with it, folding in on himself until he’s close enough to snatch a handful of chips from the plate in front of Zayn. 

 

The night feels like it moves quickly, melting away as they all get steadily drunker and tell increasingly less coherent stories about their weeks. Harry spends several long minutes humbly bragging about how well he’s doing in the yoga class he’s taken on and how many numbers he’s managed to snag by virtue of being only one of two blokes signed up, while Louis pointedly elbows Zayn in the ribs every time Harry reiterates a sentence in different words. Niall attempts to crawl over Harry and Liam’s laps to get to the loo, knocking 2 empty pint glasses onto the floor and nearly braining himself on the corner of the booth before he rights himself. 

“Are we sure he’s Irish?” Liam asks once Niall’s flat on his feet. 

“I’m sure Niall’s in complete control of his facilities,” Louis says. 

“Facilities,” Harry and Zayn repeat at the same time, sharing a look. 

“Fuck. Faculties,” Louis amends.

“Couldn’t wait for ya slow bastards to get out of the way, m’about to wee myself,” Niall insists, placing the glasses back on their table. He quickly turns for the loo and shuffles away from their laughter. 

 

By the time Niall gets back to the booth, it’s past midnight and Zayn’s aware enough to realize that he’s probably touching Louis too much. He’s taken to picking food off the plates with his left hand so that he can keep his right on Louis’ knee, scratching his nails against the inseam of his jeans every once in a while and smiling into Louis’ shoulder when his leg jerks from how ticklish it is. Zayn assumes the boys can’t see their hands when Louis starts to stroke the backs of his fingers, but he knows they’re not being particularly secretive. With the rest of his focus on their hands, feeling the little shivers of excitement when Louis brushes their fingertips together, Zayn keeps his eyes on all the others. He watches them eat and laugh and shove each other around and feels suddenly very glad to be with them, incredibly lucky to have all of them to himself. 

_Especially you,_ Zayn thinks, looking over at Louis. The bar lights are dim, as usual, but there’s a dull little ceiling lamp above their table and it illuminates Louis just enough as he smiles back. Louis turns his hand and fits all of his fingers into the spaces between Zayn’s, bumping their shoulders together when Zayn squeezes his hand. 

“Are we interrupting a romantic moment, lads?” Niall asks, tossing a bit of rolled up paper napkin at them. He misses by a wide margin. 

Zayn feels his cheeks heat, but he keeps looking at Louis and says very seriously, “We’re having— we’re practicing our telepathy.” He thinks, _I want to kiss you so badly_ and Louis nods, fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Gettin’ quite good at it, I think.” 

“Are they very sentimental telepathic thoughts?” Harry asks. Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn thinks Harry is staring more at him than at Louis. 

“Zayn does look quite sentimental,” Liam agrees. 

“Wait, didn’t he cry last time?” Niall asks. 

Breaking his telepathic connection with Louis, Zayn frowns across the table at Niall. “I didn’t!” 

“That was me,” Harry admits. 

“That was _Harry_ ,” Zayn repeats. Louis’ snickering beside him, rubbing his thumb slowly along Zayn’s index finger. It’s soothing enough that Zayn forgets to be stroppy about Niall thinking he’d cry just because he’s a sentimental drunk. 

“You’ve cried too, you big baby,” Louis whispers to him as the others argue amongst themselves about what it was Harry was crying over last time the five of them were drunk together. 

“Shh, wasn’t me. That was Harry,” Zayn whispers back, feeling a bit victorious when Louis laughs. 

-

They arrive back at the house just after 3 in the morning, and Zayn promptly collapses onto the couch. He’s exhausted, an aching tiredness permeating throughout his entire body. The boys are running around somewhere or another, trailing off to their rooms or claiming the toilet or clanking things about in the kitchen. A set of chilly fingers that might be Harry’s pat his cheek, and when he forces his eyes open he finds a tall glass filled to the brim with water sitting on the coffee table, little puddles all around it from the excess that’s sloshed out. Zayn doesn’t feel like drinking anything else, afraid it’d stick in his throat on the way down, so he closes his eyes again and pretends he never saw the glass. 

The next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, he’s not sure if it’s a few seconds later or if he’s been dozing for a while already. There’s a hand combing through his hair, and he knows it’s Louis just from the pressure. 

“Don’t wanna sleep out here, do you?” Louis asks him. 

“A bit,” Zayn says. “Comfy.” 

“You’ll catch your death,” Louis says. The sofa squeaks under them a bit when he leans down, close enough that the tip of his nose makes contact with Zayn’s. “Come to bed with me, love.” 

The entire house is dark except for the light coming from the hall, waiting for them to turn in for the night and extinguish it. “You’re persuasive,” he mumbles, bringing up a hand to squeeze Louis’ shoulder. 

“Fuckin’ right, I am,” Louis says, and Zayn laughs. Louis stands and offers him a hand; Zayn doesn’t feel like he needs it but he takes it anyway, a bit light-headed and off balance once he’s on his feet. They stand there for a moment before Zayn starts to move, keeping a couple of his fingers around Louis’. 

“Prob’ly coulda slept there all night,” he admits, flicking the hall light off on their way to the bedroom. It’s completely dark for the next few steps, but he’s made the trip enough times that he doesn’t need to see to find his way through. He waits for Louis to shut the door before leading them over to Louis’ side of the room, reaching out to turn on his lamp. 

“I can’t allow that, leaving me in here by myself,” Louis says, stepping into Zayn’s space. 

“You’d be alright. Could sleep with my pillow and dream of me,” Zayn teases, looping both of his arms around Louis’ neck. 

“Like I’d settle for a cheap imitation,” Louis replies. He twists his fingers into the loose hem of Zayn’s top, and they look at each other for a moment, just watching each other’s eyes. 

Zayn’s too drunk to make sense of anything running through his head just yet, so he leans in quietly and kisses Louis’ lips, like he’s wanted to do all night. 

-

“I need a McDonald’s,” Louis whines in the morning. He’s spread across the entire couch, bum in Harry’s lap and legs in Niall’s, his head half buried in the armrest. 

“I told you I’d make breakfast,” Harry says. He hasn’t moved since Louis sprawled across him some 20 minutes ago. 

“I don’t want a bloody toastie unless you’ll be drenching it in grease and deep-frying it.” 

“Somebody’s gotta go to the shops anyway,” Zayn says as loudly as he can manage, pulling open cabinets in the kitchen. “We’re almost out of tea!” 

“Not me,” Niall says quickly. 

“You can take my car if you fill up the tank,” Harry offers. “I’m not leaving for like, 5 hours.” 

Liam’s coming from the direction of the bedrooms so it’s a bit muffled, but Zayn thinks he hears him say, “I’ll go.” He wanders back into the living room and sees Liam picking Harry’s keys off the table by the front door. 

“I’ll go with you,” Zayn says, imagining the crunch of the crisps he’s been craving since he woke up. 

Tilting his head back toward Liam, Harry says, “Could you get me some of that multigrain bread, please? The one with the—”

“I’ve got you,” Liam says. “Niall?” 

“Just that McDonald’s’ll do me.” 

“Zayn,” Louis says, popping his head up from the couch cushions. 

Liam pauses with the door half open, waiting to hear Louis’ request, and Zayn says, “Yeah?” 

Louis hesitates for a moment before putting his head back down like he’s lost his thought, “Nevermind.” 

 

Before they’ve even made it down the hill in Harry’s car, Louis’ sent him a text. _Get some condoms ?_

Zayn carefully doesn’t react, in case Liam looks over and sees him making an incriminating face at his phone. _Glad u didn’t say that in front of the boys !_ he sends back. 

_I figured I’d spare them_ . 

Zayn locks his phone without replying, but it nags at him the longer he thinks about it. _Are u sure we have none ? Don’t u have any?_

_They’re all expired_ , Louis texts. 

_Idk how I’m supposed to get them past Liam_ , Zayn sends, chewing his lip while he thinks of it. Liam’s companionably quiet in the driver’s seat, humming along to the radio and patiently waiting in the traffic that piles up at each stoplight. It’ll be impossible to slip away from him for long. 

_You’ll think of something ! Clever lad_ , Louis replies, encouraging but completely unhelpful. 

Zayn spends the rest of the drive contemplating ways to lose Liam in a crowd and where to hide condoms on his person. Once they’re a few streets away, Liam says, “So should we do the McDonald’s first or Tesco first? I reckon Tesco, yeah? Make sure the food’s still hot when we get home?” 

“Um,” Zayn says, mind working quickly, “actually, yeah, you could drop me at Tesco and go get breakfast yourself? Drive-thru? It’ll be quicker. Two birds with one stone.” 

“Brilliant,” Liam says. “Can you pick me up some Maltesers while you’re in there, please? I’m staying with Soph this weekend, she’s been whinging about them for a week.” 

_I am very clever_ , Zayn finally sends back to Louis. _U need to talk Niall into going out tonight._

 

Back in their room after breakfast, Louis peeks into the bag that Zayn’d rushed to hide in his dresser. “You’ve gone all out, eh?” 

There’s only one box of condoms and one bottle of lube in the bag. “Figured I might as well splurge. Did you know they keep condoms in those fuckin’ security cases now, like I’m just gonna pop in and nick a couple boxes?” 

“I can promise you people do,” Louis says. Zayn figures that means he’s done just that himself a time or two. 

“You can nick them next time, then,” Zayn tells him. “I hope you appreciate all my hard work, though.” 

“I hope you appreciate _mine_ ,” Louis says. “Niall’s told me he’s going out with Eoghan and might crash at his, depending on how late it is.” 

“Did he, now?” Zayn asks. “Did Liam tell you that he’s staying with Soph?” 

“Yup.” 

“And Harry’ll be in Cheshire.” 

“Yup,” Louis repeats. “We’ll have such a nice, quiet night at home without the kids.” 

“Speakin’ of nice and quiet, you can’t even look in my direction ’til they’re all gone. I gotta work on my Art Practice portfolios or they’re gonna kick me out the bloody program,” Zayn says, nudging Louis away from his dresser so he can close the drawer. 

“You’re a _terrible_ flirt,” Louis complains, but he grabs his laptop from the floor and wraps the charger cord around his wrist. Before he heads out the door, he leans into Zayn’s space and gives him a quick kiss, gently shoving him away towards his desk afterward. “Get to work, then.” 

-

Surprisingly, it becomes a productive day. Zayn’s only interrupted twice, once by Louis with a cup of tea and once by Niall who rummages through their closet for a top to wear. He manages to nearly finish the first draft of the piece he’s been working on by the time Liam and Harry have left for the weekend; it looks a bit shit, but it’s hours worth of progress he didn’t have at the beginning of the day. 

After the sun’s gone down and left their room glowing gold from the dim lamp on Zayn’s desk, Louis comes up behind Zayn and squeezes his shoulders. “Alright, Van Gogh, I’m starving. D’you want to order in a pizza?” 

“McDonald’s for breakfast and pizza for dinner,” Zayn says, very much ready to let it happen. 

“And pencil shavings for lunch, from the looks of it,” Louis says. 

“Not very satisfying,” Zayn sighs. He tilts his head back and looks at Louis upside down. “I’d love a pizza, but I’ve spent all my money on Harry’s fuckin’ organic multi-grain bread and your maximum security condoms.” 

“I’ll buy you a bloody pizza, love, don’t work yourself up,” Louis teases, moving his hands to squeeze Zayn’s cheeks. 

From the front of the house, Niall yells his goodbyes on his way out and they both shout theirs back in unison. When Zayn hears the heavy door close, he says, “Alright, buy me a pizza. Wine ’n dine me.” 

“As if I’ve gotta work that hard to get you in bed,” Louis says, patting Zayn’s cheeks before letting him go. 

Zayn stretches as he stands. “Think of it as foreplay,” he says. 

 

They catch up on X Factor during dinner, tucked into each other’s sides. Louis extracts himself in rage and sits on the edge of the couch when his favorite group is eliminated, yelling various obscenities at the television while Zayn laughs at him. 

“Get up,” Louis says, getting to his own feet, “get up, come on. We’re moving to America. I won’t stand for this.” 

“That’s the one thing you are doing right now,” Zayn replies. 

Louis simply groans, tossing his paper plate down onto the half-empty pizza box. “I’ve got to have a shower now. Wash those filthy, filthy results off me.” 

“Go cleanse yourself,” Zayn agrees, watching as Louis walks away. He shuts off the TV and pulls out his phone, scrolling through Instagram; Niall’s posted a photo of himself already, wearing a sailor’s hat made entirely of bar napkins. 

The water pipes clank to life when Louis turns on the shower, audible from everywhere in the house. Zayn’s a bit antsy now without Louis’ presence, flipping between apps on his phone to waste time. He’s considering whether he wants his own shower before they go to bed, wondering _when_ they’re going to bed, how long they’ll really have to themselves tonight, why he’s thinking so much about something he hasn’t had to think about yet. They’re both carrying on as though they’re still just exchanging handjobs under the blankets before going to sleep in their own separate beds, and the heaviness of tonight that they’re not mentioning weighs in on Zayn now. 

Only a few minutes pass before he abandons his phone on the couch cushion and follows Louis into the loo. The door’s been left open, no steam on the mirror since the room’s not closed off. Zayn cleans his teeth at the sink, turned toward the shower - the curtains are opaque enough that he can just see the outline of Louis’ body, and he figures Louis can see him as well, though he doesn’t say anything. After he’s put his toothbrush back in place and done a cursory check in the mirror, Zayn steps over to the shower and opens the curtain a crack, as loudly as he can so as not to alarm Louis. 

“You’ve done a very poor job of sneaking around,” Louis tells him, rinsing a headful of soapy bubbles from his hair. His eyes are closed against the stream of water, so Zayn uses the opportunity to stare even more blatantly than he usually would, vividly aware of the arousal in his belly when he watches water drip from the end of Louis’ cock. 

“I’m thinking too much,” he says, quite honestly, instead of bantering back like he’d planned to do. 

“About what?” Louis asks. 

Zayn leans his head against the wall and waits for Louis to rub the water out of his eyes. “You,” he says, fixing his gaze on Louis’ face now instead of his body. 

“I refuse to have this conversation while I’m naked and you’re not,” Louis says. He reaches out and pushes Zayn’s hair back, dripping warm water onto the shoulders of Zayn’s shirt and leaving him feeling a bit chilled. “Get in here with me,” he adds, and then smiles as he closes the curtain with a flourish. 

Zayn doesn’t argue. He pulls off his clothes and drops them into a pile on top of Louis’ before climbing into the shower, holding onto Louis’ shoulders to keep from losing his balance. It’s hot in the confined space, the water just as scalding as he likes it to be, and Louis’ skin has gone red from the heat. 

“This is a bit sexy, innit?” Zayn asks. It’s only the second shower they’ve shared, and he thinks there’s a chance he’ll get hard before they’ve even properly started with Louis’ eyes on him and the streams of water running down his neck. 

“Quite,” Louis agrees. “You fancy a shag in here?” 

“I would definitely drop you,” Zayn says honestly, turning his back to Louis to let the water run over his face and the top of his head. 

“Pathetic,” Louis sighs. He presses himself against Zayn’s back and holds onto his hips, propping his chin up onto Zayn’s shoulder at an angle to avoid getting hit by the water spray. “ _Anyway_ , we’re equally naked and vulnerable now, so let’s have it.” 

Zayn reaches up to adjust the showerhead, aiming the water at his chest instead of his face. He looks at Louis, their noses close enough to touch, and thinks for a minute. Feeling unexpectedly nervous, he says, “This was meant to just be a bit of fun, yeah?” 

Though he’s watching closely, he doesn’t see much in Louis’ face change. “Yeah,” Louis replies. 

“Thinkin’, like, I might be having _too much_ fun. If that— I dunno,” Zayn shrugs, chewing the edge of his lip. 

“If you’re telling me _now_ that you don’t wanna shag me after all, I hope you remember that we share a room. Could easily kill you in your sleep,” Louis says. 

Zayn laughs and shakes his head, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “Basically share a bed now, mate, all you’d have to do is smother me with your pillow. That’s like, the complete opposite of what m’saying, though.” 

“We should just push those beds together, then, honestly,” Louis says, sliding his arms fully around Zayn’s waist. “Just make one big one.” 

“S’that the kinda thing we’re doing now? Sleeping together all the time?” Zayn asks, trying to make it sound curious. 

“Jesus. You _did_ say you were thinking too much,” Louis points out, seemingly to himself. He kisses the hinge of Zayn’s jaw and Zayn lets himself be present, focuses on the damp air in his lungs and Louis’ body around him, Louis’ lips against his skin. Louis is teasing a bit when he says, “I’d quite like to sleep with you all the time, yes. Is that blatant enough, love? Should I be more frank?” 

“Very frank, please,” Zayn replies, smiling a little, just to see what Louis will say. 

“Oh, god,” is all he gets at first; Zayn laughs and turns around to face him again, glad that Louis keeps an arm around him while he’s moving. After he’s set both his hands on Louis’ waist, Louis tips his head back and groans, “You make me so bloody soppy, I don’t want to get into it.” 

“Aw,” Zayn coos, playfully to hide how pleased he is. “It’s alright, babe, save it for later. Tell me on our honeymoon.” 

“Could you shut up and kiss me, then? We’re wasting all that honeymoon time at this very minute, Zayn.” 

Zayn moves one hand up to cup Louis’ cheek and waits until Louis leans in, brushing their noses together before he gently pushes Louis’ face back. “Go to bed, let me wash up first.” 

Affronted, Louis complains, “Your mouth’s already been cleaned, I watched you do it.” 

“Get out,” Zayn says, amused at the offended face he gets from Louis as he pushes him toward the curtain. “Don’t get dressed, though.” 

“I’ll put on me winter layers if I want,” Louis declares, stomping his way over to the towel rack as Zayn grabs the shampoo. 

 

The shower he takes is cursory at best, a quick wash of his hair and a more thorough scrub of his body, rinsing the last few days off of himself. He’s half hard by the time he comes out, gone from nervous to relieved with that underlying current of excitement. Their bedroom door is open when he walks in, only the lamp on Zayn’s desk still turned on; Louis’ sat on the edge of his bed, naked save for the towel slung around his neck. 

Zayn almost jokes about how anyone could walk in and see him lounging about naked, but stops short when he notices Louis’ hand curled around his cock, already hard in his fist. He closes the door behind himself and locks it, just out of habit, walking up until he’s directly in front of Louis. “Couldn’t wait for me, hm?” 

“Just something to pass the time,” Louis breathes. He tips his head back and looks up at Zayn expectantly, his arousal smoothing out the edges to make him look a little more pleading. 

After he pulls the towel away from Louis’ neck, Zayn says, “Lie down.” 

“Get this off first,” Louis argues, pulling at the loose knot of Zayn’s towel until it comes undone. He tosses it down next to his own towel and leans in close to Zayn’s body, the cold, wet mass of his hair brushing against Zayn’s belly. Louis places a kiss on Zayn’s hipbone before straightening up, turning to stretch himself out on his back in the middle of the bed so there’s nowhere for Zayn to go except on top of him. 

His skin is still damp from the inefficient towel-dry he’d done on himself, but Louis curls both hands around his neck regardless and pulls him into a kiss, properly needy just from being made to wait a few minutes for it. There’s no hesitation in him, just full confidence in the way he holds the back of Zayn’s head and rubs down his spine, both hands branching out in different directions from their starting point on his neck. Louis doesn’t let Zayn get away with the chaste, closed-mouth kisses they usually start with; he bites at Zayn’s lips until he parts them to take Louis’ tongue. He loses himself in it, settling heavily on top of Louis and letting himself be kissed, his hands gripping the pillow under Louis’ head while Louis holds him in close. 

There’s an urgency in them now that reminds Zayn of the first few times they’d gotten off together months ago, snogging and rubbing against each other, increasingly frantic, until they got just enough stimulation to come in their pants. Their cocks are lined up beside each other now, barely rubbing when they shift, caught between their bellies, but the kisses are what’s insistent, consuming them both. Even when they part, it’s just to suck in deep enough breaths to last them through the next round. The anticipation of the night - from waiting for the boys to leave to their tiptoeing steps toward this moment once they were alone - has finally boiled over into action. 

Zayn is the first one to break away properly, shifting his focus from Louis’ mouth to his neck instead. He leaves a trail of sucking kisses down the side of Louis’ throat and gives his collarbone a quick, sharp bite, mumbling against his chest when he says, “Turn over.” 

Louis shivers, winding Zayn’s hair around his fingers. “Wanna kiss you more,” he says. 

“Can kiss me later,” Zayn promises, pressing more kisses against Louis’ chest, a few over his nipple. He looks up at Louis when he says, “Want you arse up while I get you ready, wanna see you stretch to take me.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ say shit like that,” Louis groans, pushing his hips up against Zayn’s belly, his cock jumping between them. The deep red flush that shows up on his cheeks is satisfying to see, the physical proof of how overwhelmed Louis gets. 

“Turn over,” Zayn says again, licking at Louis’ nipple until it goes hard under his tongue. He moves away then, forcing himself to stand before he gets too carried away. Louis goes up onto his knees and watches as Zayn pulls open his dresser drawer, taking out the condoms and lube. He tosses them into the mess of blankets at the end of the bed for now, reaching out to rub down Louis’ side when his hand’s empty again. 

Louis returns the touch, dragging a few fingers down Zayn’s stomach. “Don’t suppose I’ll convince you to turn off that light, will I?” 

“Nope,” Zayn confirms, leaning in to give him a kiss. It’s much shorter than the others, interrupted by Louis’ whine of protest. “C’mon,” Zayn murmurs into his mouth, “turns you on a bit to be so embarrassed, doesn’t it? Lettin’ me see you like that?” 

He feels the hitch in Louis’ breathing against his lips. “Think you know me too well.” 

“You’re easy to read.” He kisses Louis again, more lingering this time, and says, “Bend over, babe. Need you open for me.” 

“Christ, shut up,” Louis breathes. He finally listens, though, licking his lips before grabbing a pillow and bending down to rest his head there, arse up just like Zayn said he wanted. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Zayn mumbles, taking in the sight. Louis’ got his face turned into the pillow already like he’s hiding, his back heaving gently with his quick breaths. Zayn slowly trails a fingertip down Louis’ spine, watching him shift into the touch. 

After the darkness of last time, the light from Zayn’s lamp seems like a luxury. He can see the sheen of sweat building along the length of Louis’ back, and when he crawls back into bed and settles on his knees behind him, he watches Louis lower his hips, trembling slightly. Zayn gently pulls Louis’ hips back up to where they were, sliding his hands over the warm skin of his arse. When he spreads him open for a look at his hole, Louis shifts in place and groans. 

“Don’t stare,” Louis says over his shoulder, sounding impatient underneath his embarrassment. 

Just to tease him, Zayn replies, “Something else I should be doing instead?” 

“Can think of a couple things,” Louis says. 

Suddenly curious, Zayn dips his head down and places a light kiss between Louis’ cheeks, just above his hole. Louis jolts in surprise at the touch, rocking forward away from Zayn’s mouth. 

“Like that?” Zayn asks. “Better than staring?” He pulls Louis’ closer to him again and holds his cheeks apart, keeping him still long enough to drag the tip of his tongue over Louis’ hole. Louis pushes _back_ this time, closer to Zayn’s mouth, his breath leaving him in a rush; he only replies with Zayn’s name in a strained voice, his back gone rigid. 

“Tell me, babe,” Zayn says, wanting to be sure, squeezing both of Louis’ cheeks. 

Louis shakes his head but when he speaks, he says, “More.” 

“More?” Zayn repeats; he holds Louis still the best he can, fingertips pressed into the flesh of his hips, and gives him a slower lick. He just tastes like skin and soap, but before Zayn can lick him again he shifts around more, trying to draw his legs closer together. 

“Quit squirming f’you want my mouth,” Zayn continues, lightly biting at his cheek, playful. 

“I _can’t_ ,” Louis argues, a whine in his voice, “feels so— it’s weird, but, like—” he tries, cutting himself off before the end of each sentence. 

Zayn goes back in while Louis’ still trying to find his words, this time sucking a kiss over his hole. It’s unbelievably dirty, the way he can feel Louis clench under his tongue and how loudly Louis lets himself moan, taking advantage of having the house to themselves. Zayn moves one of his hands then, wrapping it around his cock to give himself some relief. Without both hands to hold Louis’ arse open, Zayn can feel his stubble dragging against Louis’ skin and wonders if he’ll be red later, if he’ll be sore while Zayn’s fucking into him. 

The thought makes him hum right against Louis, his cock pulsing persistently in his hand. He nudges the hard tip of his tongue against Louis’ hole, pushing against him with nothing but the intention to tease; he feels Louis clench tight again and loosen up right after, though, enough that Zayn’s almost sure he could manage to fit at least the very tip of his tongue inside. 

“Zayn,” Louis pleads, pushing back against his mouth again. Zayn sucks at him again, pulling back to get a look at the pink skin around his hole. When he rubs his thumb against it to spread some of the wetness from his mouth, Louis gasps and whispers, “I want fingers.” 

“Yeah,” Zayn allows. He keeps one hand on Louis’ body and reaches back with the other for the new bottle of lube, balancing it on Louis’ lower back as tears off the plastic packaging. 

“Use a lot,” Louis says, “felt good before, like… slick.” 

“Made it so easy to get my fingers in you,” Zayn agrees. After tearing off the safety seal, he presses down on Louis’ back, “Tilt your arse up for a sec, don’t wanna make a mess.” 

Louis does as he’s told, burying his face back into the pillow beneath him as he lifts his arse higher. Zayn squeezes a generous amount of lube right onto his hole, catching all of it on his fingers that are held just underneath. The lube is thinner than he expected, some of it dripping down onto the sheets anyway; he spreads it between Louis’ cheeks and lets the rest coat his hand.

“God,” Louis breathes out, half a laugh. “Don’t wanna make a mess?” 

“You said you wanted it slick,” Zayn counters, rubbing his fingertips against Louis’ hole. 

Breathlessly, Louis says, “Slick, not _drowning_.” 

“It’ll do the job,” Zayn tells him. 

He pushes in with his middle finger first this time, keeping Louis spread open so he can actually watch it sink into him. It’s a bit overwhelming, everything at once: feeling Louis’ body tight around him again, hearing him heave out a whine, watching his back arch. Zayn lets him get used to it with a few easy thrusts before he pulls it out completely, watching his hole clench tight around nothing. 

“Prob’ly gonna have to get three in you tonight,” Zayn muses, placing a firm hand against Louis’ lower back as he starts to work in his index finger as well. 

Just like the first time, Louis gets loud about now; “ _Yeah_ , fuck,” he groans, squeezing hard around Zayn’s fingers and pushing himself up onto his elbows. The sweat on his back is clearly visible now, shimmering along the curve of his spine. 

“Feels better with more inside?” Zayn asks, sliding in as deep as his fingers’ll go. 

“Yeah,” Louis repeats, voice gone thin. He reaches between his legs and starts to stroke himself, dropping his head down between his shoulders. 

“Never would’ve thought you’d like this so much,” Zayn mumbles, slowly working his fingers in and out. 

It’s easier to fuck him properly in this position, no strain on his wrist, and Louis starts to gradually rock back against him. He moans out when Zayn twists his fingers, checking to see how tight his arse still is before deciding he needs more. When Zayn starts a quicker, steadier pace, Louis begins to breathe out in whimpers, his body trying to urge Zayn in deeper. 

“Please,” he begs eventually, stretching out until his chest is pressed against the bed, still pulling himself off but now dragging the head of his cock across the sheets, too. 

“Enough of that,” Zayn says, using his free hand to pull Louis’ away from himself. “Don’t want you comin’ yet.” 

“I won’t,” Louis promises, curling his fingers into the loosened bedsheets by his side. “I won’t, I won’t.” 

“Can you take three?” Zayn asks. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis insists, hitching his arse back up a bit from where he’d slumped against the mattress. 

“Yeah, good,” Zayn murmurs, rubbing an appreciative hand over Louis’ back and hip before holding his arse open enough to watch his hole as he pulls both fingers out. Louis groans quietly and pushes back into his hands, starting to get antsy. There’s still plenty of lube between the both of them, so Zayn doesn’t waste time; he folds three of his fingers together in the smallest arrangement he can manage and slowly tries to push into Louis’ body, watching him stretch for it. 

Unexpectedly, Louis stays quiet in the next few seconds. His back is tight with tension and Zayn can feel his muscles pulsing around his fingers, but he doesn’t make a sound. It’s not until Zayn’s made it all the way inside and curled his fingers to bump against Louis’ prostate that Louis lets out first a soft whine, followed by Zayn’s name, nearly a whisper. 

“C’mon, baby,” Zayn says, starting up the pace he’d reached with two fingers. Louis whines again, a bit louder this time, and Zayn bends down to kiss his lower back, “Yeah, let me hear you.” 

“Feels so good,” Louis moans, still sounding a bit surprised about it. 

“Gonna feel better when it’s my cock in you, yeah?” 

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, “can you, now?” 

Playing dumb, Zayn says, “Can I what?” 

“Zayn,” Louis snaps impatiently, glaring over his shoulder; Zayn pushes his fingers in deep, until the bulge of his knuckles is pressed against Louis’ rim, and watches the annoyed furrow in his brow melt away as he gasps. “Please,” he tries this time, rocking back into Zayn’s hand. 

Zayn doesn’t say anything in response, waiting to see if Louis’ll ask again. He fucks his fingers in slower, a bit smug in the way Louis’ moving against him more purposely now. Truthfully, he hasn’t got much patience left himself, but being able to focus on the feeling of Louis’ body going tight when he hits a good spot is worth the wait. 

It only takes a few extra thrusts for Louis to break, whining again, “Fuck me, babe, please.” 

After a final look at Louis in this position, Zayn pulls his fingers free and waits for Louis’ groan to die down before he says, “On your back?” 

Quickly, Louis raises up onto his knees, using the wall beside the bed for support. The muscles in his thighs quiver slightly when he tries to turn himself around, so Zayn guides him with his dry hand, doing his best to surreptitiously wipe his lube-wet fingers clean on Louis’ sheets. 

“That’s disgusting,” Louis sighs anyway, catching him out. 

“High time you did a load of laundry,” Zayn tells him. When Louis’ gotten settled back against the pillows, he parts his legs for Zayn to fit between them and tugs him down by his wrist. Zayn leans in, holding himself up over Louis as he dips down to kiss him. It’s deep from the start, edging on desperate, but when Zayn slips his tongue into Louis’ mouth he hears Louis make a distressed little sound, licking back only briefly before breaking away from the kiss. 

At Zayn’s confused face, Louis explains, “Just remembered where that tongue’s been.” 

“Oh, come off it,” Zayn laughs. “Was told once to never put my prick somewhere I wouldn’t put my mouth.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Who told you that?” 

“Harry, actually,” Zayn admits. He grins when Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Jesus.” 

“You’re clean, s’fine,” Zayn insists. He holds Louis’ chin in place, lightly enough for him to turn away if he’s actually unwilling to kiss him, and leans in slowly; he pauses just before Louis’ mouth and gives him a lingering kiss that Louis reciprocates. “Got more important things to worry about, haven’t we?” 

“Get on with it, then,” Louis murmurs, voice gone lax. 

Zayn kisses again him a handful of times first, pleased when Louis returns each one with the same enthusiasm. He pulls himself up to find the box of condoms that’s gone missing in the blankets at the foot of the bed, kneeling between Louis’ thighs to open it up and grab one before tossing the rest of them onto the floor. He watches Louis while he tears it open, listens to him breathing in the quiet room. They catch each other’s eye as Zayn rolls the condom on, and Louis braces one foot on the mattress, nudging his knee into Zayn’s side. When he turns to grab the lube again, Zayn takes a moment to bend down and press his lips against Louis’ kneecap in a quick, affectionate kiss. 

Neither of them speak again until Zayn’s slicked himself up and shuffled closer, left hand stroking down Louis’ thigh. “Put your legs around me, babe,” he mumbles then, leaning back in close to kiss the side of Louis’ neck. He keeps one hand on his cock and uses the other to pull Louis’ leg up around his waist, holding it there for a moment, “Like that, yeah.” 

“Don’t stop ’til you’re in all the way,” Louis says quietly, shifting his hips up to give Zayn room, keeping his other leg draped loosely over Zayn’s. 

“Won’t,” he promises. 

He pushes himself up far enough to see Louis’ face, and they both exhale together when Zayn’s cock rubs against his hole. When he starts to guide himself inside, Louis sucks in a deep breath but doesn’t make a sound, just like before. It’s difficult to notice anything more than his initial silence and the tightness of his body; Louis squirms when the head of Zayn’s cock makes it inside, releasing all the air in his lungs through a groan. 

“Keep—” Louis tries, gripping onto Zayn’s shoulders. 

“I know,” Zayn says. He’s hard enough that he doesn’t need a guiding hand anymore, instead holding himself up with both hands and working his cock in deeper with gentle pushes, rocking forward like Louis asked until he’s as far inside as he can go, hips snug against Louis’ body. 

Louis’ clenching so rhythmically around him that even staying still is bringing Zayn close to the edge too quickly. He digs his nails into the mattress and focuses on Louis’ face, his closed eyes and the sweat at his temples and the tension in his forehead, trying not to feel how Louis is squeezing his cock. 

“Tell me,” he manages. 

“Feels good,” Louis repeats in a whine. Taking the opportunity, Zayn draws back a bit and doesn’t get a chance to ask if it feels alright before Louis’ gasping, nails set into Zayn’s shoulder, “In, go back in.” 

“M’still in, baby,” Zayn breathes, leaning down closer to Louis’ body. He watches Louis’ mouth fall open when he pushes his cock back in deeper again. “Can go in over ‘nd over f’you’ll let me fuck you properly.” 

Without waiting for Louis to reply, Zayn pulls out further and thrusts back in quickly, dropping down closer to Louis from the simmering pleasure of it. Louis’ legs tighten on either side of his body and he reaches up to grip Zayn’s hair, moaning out his approval. 

“Good,” Zayn murmurs; he dips his head down to kiss the corner of Louis’ mouth, keeping his lips pressed there. “So good, like gettin’ filled up, yeah?” 

Louis responds with a proper kiss, albeit sloppy. He only manages to make it last through one thrust, tilting his head back to groan the next time Zayn’s cock pushes into him. The volume of it would surprise Zayn if he hadn’t heard how loud Louis was just from two fingers inside him the first time; with no one else in the house he has no reason to shush Louis now, instead encouraged. 

The pace Zayn sets is moderate, slow enough that he feels confident he can keep it up for a while. It’s also as quick as he can manage with Louis holding him in so closely - after trying to push himself up, Louis’ fingernails bit sharply into the back of Zayn’s neck, so he kissed the side of Louis’ throat and stayed where he was. Every push inside earns him another sound, a throaty whimper or a soft whine or, if Zayn shifts and hits a particularly good angle for a moment, a moan loud enough that the vibrations tickle Zayn’s lips where they’re pressed to Louis’ skin. 

Feeling Louis surrounding him - being inside him along with having Louis wrapped around his body, arms looped around his shoulders and heel pressed tightly to Zayn’s back - makes him lightheaded, panting against Louis’ neck. He finds himself thinking more quickly than he can keep up with, back to the first time he kissed Louis and how far this has come since they laughed that off, how Louis trusts him enough to want this from him. It’s overwhelming. 

“You’re—” he starts, pausing to prop himself up and readjust, hips settled right against Louis’ arse. Louis huffs out a breath and blinks up at him, his face flushed red and hairline wet with sweat. His cheek is hot to the touch when Zayn cups it, resting his weight on his elbows. 

“Don’t stop,” Louis murmurs irritably, frowning even as he reaches up to push Zayn’s hair out of his face. 

“M’not,” Zayn says, rolling his hips slowly into Louis’ body and dragging his thumb along Louis’ eyebrow when his frown slips away. “Look so good, Lou.” 

“Kiss me,” Louis demands. Zayn complies, curling his hand along the damp curve of Louis’ neck and feeling the hard pounding of his pulse under his own thumb. It’s a more controlled kiss than the last, deep and focused, only interrupted by their sporadic gasps when Zayn rocks forward. After a moment, Louis squeezes Zayn’s hips between his legs and breathes out a laugh against his mouth, “Givin’ me thighs a proper workout, keepin’ em up here.” 

“Leg day,” Zayn grins, pressing his lips against Louis’ prickly chin. “Oughta ride me f’you want to give em a real workout.” 

Louis huffs, licking over his lips while he lets his legs loosen and slip down lower on Zayn’s waist. “Couldn’t hold myself up long enough. Like it like this,” he says, hugging Zayn a bit closer by his shoulders. “Would f’you’d hurry up, at least.” 

Instead of replying, Zayn gives Louis one more quick kiss before bracing his hands on the mattress, pushing himself up and away from the hold of Louis’ arms. Louis slips one hand to rest against the cage of Zayn’s ribs and reaches between them with the other, knuckles nudging Zayn’s belly when he wraps his fingers around his cock. He’s still hard, and he clenches tight around Zayn once he’s given himself a few slow tugs. 

“Yeah,” Zayn groans, dropping his head down to watch while he pulls his knees forward for leverage. He thrusts into Louis a handful of times, quicker than before, shifting his gaze to watch Louis’ face as he gets progressively louder again, tossing his head back against the pillow. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis hisses. He twists his hand over his cock, squirming underneath Zayn; it feels like he’s opening up for it more easily now, taking Zayn’s thrusts like it’s not his first time, whining every time Zayn rubs against his prostate. Soon he gasps, “Keep— like that, just like that,” head tilted back enough to expose the smooth line of his throat that’s mottled pink with exertion. 

Zayn’s too breathless to respond, so instead of speaking he keeps the same pace and works at holding off his orgasm. His hair’s fallen into his eyes and he can feel the muscles in his arms beginning to burn, but he focuses on the hitches in Louis’ breathing and the frantic speed of his hand. When Louis’ arse starts going tighter around him again, tensing in time with the rest of his muscles as he pulls himself off, Zayn sucks in a harsh breath and holds it, fisting the sheets beside Louis’ head so tightly that one corner pops off the edge of the mattress. 

Determined to make Louis come first, Zayn musters up the rest of his energy and puts it behind his next thrusts, snapping his hips into Louis’ with enough force to make him cry out. “C’mon,” Zayn manages to groan, arms shaking a bit, “c’mon, babe, come on.” 

“Fuck,” Louis repeats, weakly and in a whine this time. His nails are digging painfully into Zayn’s stomach, scratching his skin whenever he’s jostled by a thrust. When he’s just at the edge of his orgasm, he moans out, loud and helpless; it’s hard to keep fucking him when he starts to writhe, so Zayn quickly pushes himself up and grabs Louis’ hips, holding him still to keep pushing into him. Louis loses his breath when he finally starts to come, mouth caught open in a soundless moan as he spills onto his belly, arse gripping tightly around Zayn’s cock. 

Zayn keeps Louis held in place, fucking him in shorter, quick thrusts, spurred on by the overwhelmed whimpers Louis lets out once he’s milked the last drops of come from his cock and let it go. He looks up at Zayn, panting hard through his open mouth, unable to speak yet. Zayn meets his eyes at first but then trails them over his entire body, his trembling thighs and cock still bobbing hard against his belly that’s streaked with come, his hard nipples and everything that’s flushed a dark pink from his chest up. His breath keeps catching with each of Zayn’s thrusts, and he finally reaches out to curl his fingers around Zayn’s wrist, just as Zayn starts to come, buried as deep as he can go. 

Louis murmurs something too softly for Zayn to hear over his own groan, squeezing Zayn’s wrist tight. His orgasm feels like it’ll never end - he stays inside longer than he should, knows Louis must be too sensitive for it, but he’s reluctant to pull out when he can still feel his cock pulsing inside Louis’ body like he’s got more come left. After a few final, gentle thrusts he eases out of Louis, rubbing up his hips when he gasps. 

“Gonna—” Zayn says, gesturing towards his cock, and Louis nods, spreading his legs wider so Zayn can untangle himself from between them. He stands on shaky legs and makes his way over to the bin by his desk, tossing the condom inside before rummaging in the drawers until he finds a travel pack of tissues. Tearing half the pack out of the plastic, he decides to leave his lamp on and walks back to bed, settling on the edge and waving the tissues triumphantly at Louis. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis sighs, stretching out languorously when Zayn wipes a tissue across his stomach to clean him up. “Thank you, darling.” 

“Let me get your bum too, still got slick everywhere,” Zayn says, tapping at Louis’ thigh after throwing the used tissue in the direction of his bin. 

“This was a bit romantic and now it’s just embarrassing,” Louis complains. He opens his legs enough for Zayn to clean between them anyway, shifting uncomfortably. 

Zayn doesn’t bother throwing this one towards the bin, just tosses it onto the floor to deal with later as he crawls into bed, settling between Louis and the wall. “After all you’ve let me do to your arse tonight I dunno why that’d be the most embarrassing.” 

“You can stop talking now,” Louis says, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s neck to pull him in close. He catches Zayn’s laugh half on his cheek before they right themselves for a proper kiss. 

They’re sweet, lazy kisses that make Zayn feel lethargic, sleepy but buzzing still from the way Louis strokes the back of his neck, twisting the locks of hair there around his fingers. Neither of them bother with tongue, just the kind of slow snogging they started with months ago. Louis’ cheeks are still warm to the touch when Zayn cups his face; he runs the pad of his thumb along Louis’ cheekbone, nudging their noses together when he pulls back enough to tilt his head the opposite direction. 

Louis ends it first, turning his head with a smile to deflect Zayn’s next kiss, letting it land on his cheek instead. They look at each other after, Zayn moving back enough to let Louis’ face come into focus. It’s then that Louis says, “So, I don’t want you shagging other people.” 

A bit surprised, Zayn says, “I haven’t been.” 

“No, I know,” Louis clarifies. “But we’re, like… it’s out there, now. Now you know for sure.” 

“Alright,” Zayn agrees. “You either, then.” 

“Alright,” Louis repeats. “Want you to come visit Donny soon, too. The girls miss you.” 

“We can go next weekend f’you want,” Zayn says, dragging his fingertips down Louis’ arm until he reaches his hand, twisting their first few fingers together. “You got any other requirements?” 

Louis makes a long humming noise like he’s thinking, eventually settling on, “It’s a work in progress. I’ll keep you updated. You have any?” 

Zayn mulls it over for a moment, letting his hand go slack while Louis weaves his fingers through Zayn’s. “Kinda wanna tell the boys.” 

“Obviously,” Louis says. “Gonna go Facebook official, as the kids say.” 

“Too bad I deleted mine.” 

“Without bothering to even add me back first,” Louis grumbles. 

“Got you on Insta, though,” Zayn says placatingly, shuffling in closer to kiss Louis’ jaw. 

“Mm, true. We should post loads of selfies now.” 

“Where’s your phone, then?” Zayn asks. 

Louis laughs, butting his forehead against Zayn’s temple. “Can’t jump right into _post-coital_ selfies, love. Have some tact, honestly.” 

“Got none of that, m’afraid,” Zayn says apologetically. “Been hangin’ around you too long.” The slap Louis gives him is hardly enough to hurt, and he laughs off the residual sting into the hollow of Louis’ neck. 

-

Somehow, they manage to wake up before noon; Zayn notices Louis’ knee that’s shoved tightly against his bladder first, and becomes aware of his grumbling stomach next. After pulling on some pyjamas and a quick stop to clean their teeth and use the toilet, they end up standing in front of the open refrigerator door, peering inside. 

“Could do with an omelette,” Louis says. “Or a scrambled egg.” 

“Mm. Wish we had pancakes.” 

Grabbing the carton of eggs, Louis says, “You just bought groceries yesterday, should’ve thought of that.” 

“I was a bit preoccupied. Only really had one thing in my head at that point,” Zayn argues, rummaging through the half-empty takeaway containers littering their fridge for the cheese he knows is in there. Louis gives him a cheeky smack on the bum and winks exaggeratedly when Zayn turns to give him a look. 

They make it as far as finding a pan to cook the eggs in before Zayn gets distracted. He watches Louis toss cooking utensils from a drawer while searching for a spatula, and even as he’s wincing from the sound of wood and metal clanking against the counter, he draws closer to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist. 

Louis doesn’t acknowledge him until Zayn kisses the side of his neck, then says, “Can’t a man make his breakfast without getting mauled?” 

“Feel free to carry on,” Zayn insists, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder, head tilted enough to watch Louis’ profile. 

“Can’t expect me to focus under these conditions,” Louis says. He turns his head enough to look Zayn over and leans in for a kiss that he pretends to give up reluctantly, like it’ll get Zayn off his back. It strikes Zayn then that this is the first proper kiss they’ve had that hasn’t been behind a closed door, the first in their own kitchen, and it prompts him to press in close and steal another from Louis’ lips. Just as Louis’ started to turn around and face him for another kiss, though, Zayn hears the refrigerator door squeak open and looks over to find Niall blearily peeking inside. 

He looks only mildly hungover, mostly sleepy, in just his white briefs and ankle socks. Zayn realizes after he and Louis have been staring for a moment that he’s still holding Louis close, and that Louis’ got a wooden spoon gripped in his hand. 

“Good… morning,” Louis says slowly in Niall’s direction. 

“Mornin’,” Niall replies. 

Louis jabs Zayn in the side, prompting him to say something else. Zayn settles on, “D’you want some eggs?” 

“Nah,” Niall says, holding up a takeaway container for them to see before walking it over to the microwave to heat it up. 

Thrusting the spoon into Zayn’s hands, Louis moves away to grab the egg carton and busies himself with pulling out eggs and placing them on the counter where they roll around, dangerously close to the edge. “When did you get back, then?” he asks. 

Niall looks a bit hesitant. “Sometime last night, dunno.” 

“Right. Fantastic,” Louis sighs, deflating a bit. Zayn bites back a slightly hysterical laugh. 

“I wasn’t gonna say a word,” Niall promises, holding his hands up in innocence. “Didn’t hear a peep.” 

“Fuck’s sake,” Louis groans, abandoning the eggs to rub a hand over his face which is growing increasingly red. 

“We were gonna tell you today anyway,” Zayn says, “or, like, when Harry and Liam got home.” 

“Don’t need to know any details about you shagging, honestly,” Niall says. 

“Thought you didn’t hear a peep, Niall!” Louis says loudly, into his own palm. 

At the same time, Zayn says, a bit defensively, “It’s not just _shagging_.” 

Having grown accustomed to ignoring most things Louis says as his voice raises in volume, Niall latches onto Zayn’s sentence instead and asks, “So you’re, like…?” 

“Like…” Zayn starts, looking at Louis who lets his hand fall away from his face despite how flushed he’s gotten. 

“Exclusive?” Louis suggests. 

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, nodding to Niall. 

“Huh. That’s sick, then, congrats. Sorry I, like, interrupted,” Niall says, clapping Louis on the shoulder since he’s the closest. 

They’re all quiet for the last few seconds before the microwave beeps. Niall grabs his carton and a fork from the counter where Louis’d been slinging utensils around and wanders off into the living room, and a moment later they hear the television go on. 

The silence between them is so comical that Zayn can’t hold in his laughter anymore; he covers his mouth with his hand for Louis’ sake, but only laughs harder when Louis fixes him with an embarrassed glare, extra conscious of how loud he must’ve been the night before, thinking that no one was home. Zayn tries to give him an apologetic hug, and while Louis squirms initially he lets himself be squeezed. 

“Despite how mortified I am right now, that was very anticlimactic,” Louis admits when Zayn’s pulled back and gotten himself a bit more under control. “Should we even bother waiting for the others to get home? Can’t we just, like, text them?” 

“I think we could text them,” Zayn says. “D’you have your phone?” 

Louis pulls his phone out of the pocket of his pyjamas and tosses it to Zayn. “You do that, I’m cooking these bloody eggs before I starve.” 

Opening up Louis’ group message with the lads, Zayn taps into the text box and hums. “What should I say?” 

“Just that we’re— a thing. Dating,” Louis says, gesturing with the shell of the egg he just cracked into the pan. 

Zayn smiles a bit to himself and types into the box, _So just thought u lads should know me n Louis are dating_ with an emoji sticking its tongue out tacked onto the end. He turns the phone to show Louis (who replies with, “Very professional,”) before he sends it, adding a second message afterward, _It’s Zayn btw aha :)_

Before the screen’s even had a chance to go dark, Liam replies with _Really???????????_ and a line of emojis that appear surprised. He sends another in quick succession, _Is this a prank lol?_

After Zayn reads off the messages, Louis says, “Tell him our love is not a prank.” 

“That’s gonna make it sound like a prank,” Zayn protests. Still, he gets as far as typing out _Louis says_ before the phone chirps again with another message, this time from Niall. 

_Not a prank I heard em goin at it last nite hahahahahahaha_

Zayn shouts into the living room, “Thought we could trust you, Niall!” All he gets in return is a loud cackle. Liam sends some more emojis, this time several embarrassed looking monkeys, followed by, _I’m gunna be mad if its a joke but I love u both if its not :)_

“Maybe we should’ve waited for them to get home,” Zayn laughs. 

“The damage is done,” Louis says forlornly, stirring the eggs with a plastic fork in lieu of the spatula he never found. “Niall ruined the surprise.” 

Harry replies last, still quite quickly, after Zayn’s sent a single smiley face in response to Liam. His message says, _I’ll bring a “Congratulations” cake home .xxx_

“Think it went pretty well,” Zayn says, once he’s satisfied with the messages and Louis’ started dumping his scrambled eggs onto plates for them. 

“Wait til we tell our mums, though,” Louis says ominously. 

Zayn switches off the stove and steals the fuller plate, “Your mum loves me.” 

“That’s the problem. She’s likely going to cry. Plus Fizzy’ll be proper jealous, she pretends it’s not true but she’s fancied you for ages.” 

“Oh god,” Zayn laughs, grabbing them a pair of forks. “Don’t know if I’ve got the energy to handle more than one Tomlinson. Tomlinson, Deakin.” 

“Well, love, hate to break it to you but you’ve got seven of ‘em to handle now,” Louis says, stepping in close. “Package deal.” 

Zayn hums appraisingly and looks over Louis’ face, leaning in until their noses touch. Against Louis’ mouth, he murmurs, “We’ll work it out,” giving him one last kiss before they start their breakfast together.


End file.
